Previously…
– Samantha told Tempest that she doesn’t think she can trust her again and officially ended their relationship.
– Tori was elated when Zane returned to King’s Bay — unaware that he was doing so in violation of the deal he and Sarah made when she paid him the $100,000 he’d been blackmailing her for.
– Sonja continued to grow closer to Tim, even as she accepted money and orders from someone acting working for Loretta Ragan.

 

Excited applause swallows up the final notes of the playful, jingly holiday music.

“Thanks, you ho-ho-hos!” proclaims the drag queen onstage, dolled up in a festive red-and-green wig and zany striped dress. “I’m Candy Cane Elaine, and I’ll be back after intermission!”

The audience’s clapping trails off, and Christmas music from the club’s speakers takes over.

“What do you think?” Alex Marshall asks. He, his husband, and Samantha Fisher sit at one of the high-top tables in main room of The Lookout’s, with cocktails in front of them. The wall of windows overlooks the waterfront, where thin rods of rain can be seen falling through the darkness.

“I don’t know if a holiday drag show would’ve been my first choice for an outing,” Samantha says, “but it’s fun. I’m waiting to see how many more jokes she can make about taking a trip down her Candy Cane Lane.”

“Never underestimate the power of a drag queen,” Trevor Brooks says. “As long as you’re having fun, though. We wanted to make sure to get in some time with you.”

Alex nods along. “We don’t want it to look like we’re taking sides. We see Tempest plenty because of Chase, but we don’t want you to think for a minute that you aren’t our friend, too.”

“I appreciate that.” Samantha forces a smile as she stirs her drink.

“How are you doing?” Trevor asks. “With the break-up and everything.”

“I’m okay. This has all been going on for so long that it was almost a relief to know things were over. Almost.”

“You’re allowed to be sad, even if you’re the one who technically ended it,” Alex says softly.

“I know.” Staring down at the table, Samantha pauses. “I just wish things could be different. That my mom hadn’t done what she did… that Tempest hadn’t decided to be so gleeful about telling me…”

The men trade a careful look.

“Everyone has made mistakes,” Alex says. “Some of them very big. But if you can find it in your heart to forgive them, whenever that happens, you should try. My father did some terrible things, but the fact that we weren’t speaking when he died…”

“You’re right,” Samantha says. “I’m going to try. But it feels like one of those situations where I might be able to forgive, but I don’t think I can forget.”

She takes a sip from her drink and resolves to brighten her demeanor.

“What should I expect in the second half to this show?”

“Well,” Trevor says, “just wait until you see her tribute to sugar daddies.”

“Should I be scared?” As Samantha asks the question, she glances past Trevor and catches the eye of a woman around her age, maybe a little younger. She has short, dark hair and a nose ring.

“Let’s just say she remade a classic as ‘Silver Balls,’” Alex says.

The three of them devolve into laughter. Samantha tries to catch her breath, and she notices the dark-haired girl still looking over at their table.

“What is it?” Trevor asks.

Samantha’s attention snaps back toward him. “What?”

“You’re looking at something over my shoulder. Or someone.” He grins. “I know that look.”

“What? No.” Samantha feels her cheeks growing warm.

Alex slyly sneaks a peek past Trevor. “The one with the nose ring? She’s definitely looking over here.”

“Go talk to her,” Trevor urges.

“No. I can’t.” Samantha’s heart begins to beat faster. “I don’t even know if she’s…”

“Not to stereotype,” Alex says, “but if that isn’t a table of lesbians…”

Trevor sets down his drink decisively. “Come on. Go over and talk to her.”

“I couldn’t.”

“You could! You can.” Trevor sets down his drink decisively and leans forward. “It might be good to put yourself back out there.”

Samantha gulps as she again looks to the other table, watching the other girl engaged in conversation with her friends.

—–

The glow emanating from the Christmas tree and television screen are the only lights in Tim Fisher’s living room. Music swells as the movie’s credits begin onscreen.

“What did you think?” Sonja Kahele asks.

Spencer Ragan, who is sprawled on one end of the sectional couch with a blanket over himself, shrugs. “It was nice. But next time, I’m picking the movie.”

“Nice? It’s a classic!” Sonja looks to Tim for confirmation. “Isn’t it?”

“Absolutely!”

“There are so many good lines.” Sonja adjusts her voice to impersonate Danny Kaye: “‘How can a guy that ugly have the nerve to have sisters?’”

“’Very brave parents,’” Tim answers in his best Bing Crosby.

Spencer rolls his eyes as the two of them crack up.

“Like I said,” he tells them, “next time we’re doing Bad Santa or something.”

“I’ve never seen it,” Sonja says, “but I bet it’s a little risqué!”

“You’ll survive,” Tim says.

“I suppose.” She picks up her nearly empty hot cocoa mug off the table and reaches for the other two. “I’m going to head to bed.”

“You do that, and I’ll handle the mugs.” Tim reaches and takes them from her, setting them back on the table. “I’m serious. You do enough around here.”

Sonja smiles sweetly at him. “Thank you. Goodnight, both of you.”

Tim gets up and removes the DVD from the Blu-ray player as Sonja’s footsteps sound on the stairs and then on the floorboards upstairs.

“So, uh,” Spencer begins, “what’s going on there?”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve seen the vibe between you two.”

Tim pauses over the open DVD case. “Vibe?”

“‘Very brave parents’ or whatever. And you guys spent the whole night talking at the restaurant opening.”

“I’m trying to make sure Sonja isn’t uncomfortable. She doesn’t know anyone.”

“She can handle herself.” Spencer sits up, tossing his blanket to the side. “Oh, come on. I’m not mad. You think I’m mad you’re hooking up with my nurse?”

“We’re not hooking up!”

“But you want to be.”

Tim hesitates. “It would be totally inappropriate.”

“She won’t work here forever. I’m getting better every day. I can even hurl myself from my wheelchair into the bed now.”

“Your recovery is my priority,” Tim says. “And Sonja’s. I do enjoy her company…”

“Then go for it! Seriously, I don’t care.”

After a deep sigh, Tim allows a sheepish grin to show through. “Thanks. I don’t even know… Thank you.”

“Hey, one of us might as well be getting some action. I’m so lame, sitting at home on a weekend night watching White Christmas. No offense.”

“None taken.”

Spencer picks up his phone, which has been lying beside him, and glances at the screen. “I had a life before, right? None of my friends from KBU have really done more than text me to say they’re glad I’m okay. No one wants to come visit.”

Tim feels his chest tighten as he explains, “I think people kind of dropped away after… what happened with Philip.”

“I was thinking that.” Spencer tosses the phone back onto the couch cushion. “I’m just going stir-crazy. At least I might be able to go back to work soon.”

With his own mug perched inches above the coffee table, Tim freezes.

“What?” Spencer asks. “I do want to go back. I’m so bored.”

“The thing is,” Tim says, very slowly, “you weren’t working at Vision before your accident.”

“I wasn’t? Why not?” Spencer squints, racking his brain to conjure memories that he knows aren’t going to appear. “Did I get some other job and you haven’t told me?”

“No. You… you just quit.”

“Why would I do that?”

Tim sucks in a sharp breath, realizing that he cannot lie to his son. It’s time to come clean about what was keeping them apart before Spencer’s fall — and once Spencer is reminded of the truth, it could be the end of this new, free father-son relationship that they have been enjoying.

—–

“We need something over here,” Tori Gray says. “There’s a big gap.”

She takes a step back, hands on her hips, and evaluates the small, artificial tree in the corner of Zane Tanaka’s apartment.

“How about this one?” Zane, who is crouched over a box of ornaments that Tori purchased a few hours ago, holds up a glittery gold ball.

“That works.” She takes the ornament and hangs it on the tree. “How many more do we have?”

“A bunch. Are we gonna be able to fit all these? This tree is tiny. It’s shorter than you!”

“Hey!” She spins around and playfully smacks him on the head. “Here’s the thing with Christmas trees: it’s really hard to make them look too full. The more, the merrier.”

“So to speak,” Zane says, one side of his mouth curling up in amusement. He picks up a red-and-white stripped ornament and goes to hang it on the tree. “Where should I put it?”

“I think… here.” She points to an empty branch, and Zane nestles the new ornament between two snowflake-shaped ones.

She reaches up and rests her forearms on his shoulders.

“I’ve got to say,” she muses, “this is a pretty cute tree. You needed some holiday cheer in this place.”

Zane turns and plants a kiss on her forehead. “I’ve never really been a Christmas tree guy. So thanks for your help.”

“Happy to do it.” She touches a hand to his cheek. “I’m happy to do anything with you.”

“Same.”

“Did you not grow up with Christmas trees?” she asks.

He shrugs. “I mean, we had them sometimes, but it wasn’t a big thing. I know that’s, like, the opposite of how you grew up.”

“I want to know more about you. About your life, I mean. There’s still so much I don’t know.”

“That’s ‘cause we’re still getting to know each other.”

“I know,” she says, “and I’m glad that we get to. I’m glad that we get to have Christmas together — and that you came back at all.”

“I wouldn’t have taken off and left you here,” he says, staring into her eyes.

“Good. But this family emergency you had… What was it?”

“It wasn’t anything super-dramatic.”

“That’s good. But it still seemed serious, if you had to go away for weeks.” She drops her arms to her sides, her tone growing more serious. “What’s really been going on with you, Zane?”

—–

As fast as Samantha’s mind is buzzing, she cannot make her body move. It is as if she has suddenly been surrounded by a block of ice right there in the middle of The Lookout.

“I’ll tell you what,” Trevor offers. “I’m going to go over there and feel it out for you.”

“No!” she exclaims. “You can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Yeah. Why not?” Alex asks, a little more gently than his husband.

“I don’t know.” Samantha’s palms suddenly feel sweaty. “Isn’t that weird?”

“Not at all,” Trevor says. “It’s what people do at bars.”

She risks another glance at the girl with the nose ring, who is laughing riotously at something one of her friends has said.

“I guess I’ve never really done this,” Samantha says. “Any of this.”

“Well, no time like the present to get started.” Trevor pats her on the forearm and then hops up from his seat.

Sam turns to Alex with terror. “What’s he going to do?”

“Trevor can talk to anyone,” Alex says. “It’s one of his talents. I don’t think he’s ever found a social situation daunting in his life.”

“I wish I could be like that.”

She watches, her teeth gritted and her hands clenched, as Trevor saunters over and strikes up conversation with the group of girls.

Alex leans over and whispers, “Try not to look like you’re about to face the execution squad.”

Remembering to exhale for what feels like the first time in several minutes, Samantha picks up her cocktail and takes a sip through the tiny straw. She waits for the moment, and soon enough, it comes: the girl looks back over her shoulder and, without question, gives Sam the once-over.

“Smile at her,” Alex says, trying not to move his mouth too much.

Samantha pushes her mouth into something that feels like a smile, though she suspects that she appears more like the Joker than someone having a fun night out with friends. She is still trying to read Trevor and the girl’s body language when, seemingly out of nowhere, Trevor takes a step back, offers the table of young women a friendly wave, and strides back toward Sam and Alex.

She can tell by the expression on Trevor’s face that it isn’t good news.

“What’s up?” Alex asks, far more casually than Samantha would be able to manage right now.

“So,” Trevor begins, dragging out the single syllable for a few seconds, “it turns out she was looking over here because she thought she recognized a certain author.”

Samantha wants to run out of the room, then out of the club, and then into the bay. “Oh god.”

“It isn’t a big deal,” Alex says.

“Did you tell her I was interested?” she asks.

“Yeah.”

His lack of follow-up causes her to grab for her drink again.

“She says she isn’t looking to date right now,” Trevor says, in a way that Samantha finds both sweet and patronizing all at once. She gets the distinct sense that he is sugarcoating things for her benefit.

“I shouldn’t have let you go over,” she says between frantic sips. “I’m so stupid. Why would I think–”

“Because you’re awesome,” Trevor interrupts. “You’re cute, you’re smart, you’re one of the most considerate people I know–”

“None of which is enough to make someone want to date me.”

“Don’t think that,” Alex says. “You don’t know what that girl’s deal is.”

She shakes her head as she focuses down on the tabletop. “It was a one-in-a-million thing that Tempest and I met and connected the way we did. I don’t know how to do any of this. I’m not good at it. What if no one wants to date me?” She draws in a heavy, panicky breath. “What if this was my one shot at being with someone, and it got ruined?”

Trevor places his hand over hers to stop her. “That’s a bunch of crap. Don’t let yourself spiral. One girl in one bar on one night means nothing.”

“Trevor’s right,” Alex says. “There are so many more fish in the sea, and you’ve barely begun swimming.”

“I feel like all I’m going to do is drown,” Sam says glumly. She cannot shake the sense that everyone in the club is eyeing her, knowing what a loser she is. “Maybe I should just go.”

“No way,” Trevor says. “Absolutely not. We’re out for a fun friends night, and we were having one until a few minutes ago.”

She is still trying to come up with a graceful way to exit when the lights onstage flare again. All heads turn toward the stage as a voice calls out:

“Now how much do y’all know about sugar daddies?”

The audience erupts with laughter and applause, and Samantha tries to relax. At least the dark will keep everyone from noticing her.

—–

“For real. Why would I quit my job?” Spencer asks. “I remember liking it.”

Tim sets down the DVD case as he attempts to gather his thoughts. He has known this moment was coming from the minute they realized that Spencer was unable to remember the past two years. Selfishly, though, he has hoped he might never have to face it.

“You did like it,” he says.

“I liked having a normal job. Doing normal things. After all the stuff with my mother– I mean, Loretta–”

“You were doing well there.” Tim perches on the arm of the sectional. “But you quit because you were angry at me.”

He watches Spencer pull himself into a more upright position, pulling his feet from beneath the blanket. Even that movement would have been unthinkable two months ago, and it heartens Tim to see how much his son’s condition has improved.

“You heard Claire and me talking.” For as many times as Tim has run through this in his mind, it feels like dangerous, uncharted territory, filled with landmines and sudden drops that could plunge him into disaster at any instant. “Back when the Footprint Killer was running around… I found something in your car.”

Spencer waits wordlessly for more information.

“It was a tube of red paint,” Tim continues. “I thought it might be… I was worried it could be the paint the killer had used to create the footprints at one of the crime scenes.”

“Wait. When did that happen? Because I remember everything right up until we found out about Philip–”

“I found the paint before my father was killed. But you overheard us much later. It was during Molly’s trial.” He sighs. “I’ve wished a million times that I could go back and just not have that conversation in that place. It was already over. But once you overheard, things were different forever.”

“Wow. So you and Claire thought I was the killer.”

“For a short time. I had Sarah run a test on the paint. It didn’t match. That was the end of it.”

“But I was still pissed when I found out,” Spencer says, walking through the logic as he speaks each syllable. “Because… you guys didn’t trust me.”

“I guess so. Yeah. Because you thought it meant that we saw you as being as bad as Loretta or James or Philip.”

“Do you?” The question is thrown down like an actual gauntlet. “Is this entire ‘come live with me, I’ll help you get better’ thing just a show because I’m crippled and can’t remember anything?”

“No.” The intensity of his response causes Tim to spring to his feet. “You have to understand: any suspicions we had, they were only because of how insane everything was around that time. No one was safe. Finding that paint scared me — because I didn’t want to think you were capable of anything like that.”

He waits for some kind of response, but Spencer remains deep in thought. The blank blue of the TV screen stares back at them.

“I can’t apologize enough for making you think I saw you like that,” Tim says. “Then or now. You are just as much a part of this family as anyone else.”

“Thanks,” Spencer finally says. “I get why I was angry. Quitting was– maybe that was a little over-the-top.”

It as if someone has suddenly pulled Tim’s head out from beneath powerful, suffocating waves, because he is able to breathe again.

“I’m guessing I was still in shock about Philip, too,” Spencer adds. “Like I was lashing out because of that.”

“That makes a lot of sense. You know, I’ve been dreading having to explain this to you. Things have been good since you got out of the hospital. Maybe I wanted to keep living in a fantasy world where we could be a normal father and son.”

“Man. It’s really weird to learn stuff about your own life that you had no idea about. But knowing that I could’ve died, or been paralyzed, or whatever — it makes me want to wipe away as much of the bad shit as I can and start clean.”

“Getting a second chance at life will do that for you,” Tim says. “I know that all too well.”

“Yeah,” Spencer agrees. “And maybe there are things I’m better off not remembering.”

On the staircase, Sonja stands rigidly, not wanting to interrupt them. She decided to come back down for a glass of water, but she paused when she heard the men talking. Their conversation is a relief to her, at least in some minor way; she has been so consumed by guilt over what she is doing. But she isn’t harming anyone — that’s what she keeps telling herself. She doesn’t know why Loretta Ragan wants to keep Spencer’s memory at bay, but he seems to be doing well, and it sounds as if the current situation is actually bringing Tim and his son closer. And if it allows her to get the money that she so desperately needs for her mother’s care, too…

She decides that she can do without the glass of water and quietly heads back to her room, hoping that this current sense of relief will stick and allow her to have an untroubled night’s sleep.

—–

Tori studies Zane carefully as she awaits his answer. As thrilled as she is to have him back, his abrupt departure from and return to town always struck her as odd. She has heard enough about what Travis is going through — with Rosie refusing to talk to him about her family or her life — that it concerns her that Zane might do the same, especially if there is something serious she is hiding.

But he surprises her by coming right out with it.

“It’s my dad,” he says. “He’s been in and out of rehab for a long time. Prescription pills. Things got hairy again. That’s why I had to go back to Fresno.”

“Oh. Wow. That sounds awful.” She places a hand against his chest. “You know you could’ve told me.”

“Thanks. I just… it’s embarrassing. My dad and I aren’t close at all. He hasn’t really been a dad. And you come from this ideal family–”

“Excuse me. My grandmother is locked in her house and has to wear an ankle bracelet because she shot someone. You call that ideal?”

“You know what I mean. You all love each other. You’re close. My family’s not like that. Never will be.”

“I want you to know that you can talk to me about any of it, whenever you want,” she says tenderly. “I’m here for you. That’s why I’m here.”

“Thanks. For real.”

She leans in and kisses him. Their mouths slide together, lips and tongues meeting and winding together in a passionate exchange. Zane’s hand slides over her side and up her shirt.

“Hey, hey,” she says with a laugh, pulling back. “We have one more thing to do before we can do that.”

He smirks. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.” She bends down and reaches into the bag she brought from the store. “We need to put this on.”

She holds up the sparkling silver angel tree topper.

“And I think you should do the honors,” she says.

“I think we should do it together.” He stands behind her and places his hands over hers. Together, they guide the angel onto the top of the tree. Zane savors the feeling of Tori’s body against hers; he never expected to like her at all, let alone fall for her this way. But when he skipped town a while back, he knew that he wouldn’t be able to stick to the terms of Sarah’s payoff. She doesn’t ever have to find out that he wasn’t actually in Fresno, or that someone would have to pay him another $100,000 to get him to go back to that hellhole. He has no idea whether his dad is in or out of rehab at the moment, and he has no intention of finding out.

No, this is exactly where I belong, he thinks as they stand together, admiring the glowing tree that they created together.

END OF EPISODE 903

Can Tori and Zane make it long-term?
Will Spencer’s new attitude stick?
Will Samantha find love again?
Discuss all this and more in the comments below!

Next Episode