Previously…
– On the last day of the school year, a girl named Jasmine invited Caleb to an underground DJ show.
– Caleb, who was supposed to attend a celebratory dinner with Molly and Conrad, asked Christian and Bree to cover for him so that he could go to the party instead.
– The District Attorney, Audrey Tam, laid out the terms of what Rosie must do to help bring down Diego Barrera’s drug ring, in order to avoid perjury charges and possible expulsion from the police force.

The remains of a delicious takeout dinner cover the picnic table on the back deck of Molly Taylor’s home. Overhead, the brilliant blue of the sky has begun to fade into a more subdued tone as night comes to King’s Bay.

Conrad Halston uses a paper napkin to wipe his mouth. “Thank you for arranging dinner. That was great.”

Molly touches a hand to her boyfriend’s forearm. “Thanks for being here.”

“Oh my god, you guys are totally making googly eyes at each other,” Bree Halston comments from across the table.

Conrad looks to his daughter. “And what’s the matter with that?”

“I think it’s very sweet,” Danielle Taylor says as she returns to the table with a fresh glass of sparkling water and takes her seat again.

“Just don’t start, like, making out,” Christian Taylor says before eating one final bite of his pasta salad.

Molly sticks out her tongue at her son. “This has been really nice. I just wish Caleb had been here, too.”

“Yeah,” Danielle adds, setting down her glass. “Why was the soccer team having an end-of-the-school-year party? They haven’t even played together since fall.”

Christian finds himself very consciously trying not to cast a look over at Bree, recalling Caleb’s plea for them to cover so he could go to a party with Jasmine from school.

“I have no clue,” he says.

“Danielle!” Bree exclaims suddenly. “I meant to tell you earlier: your song came on my Spotify playlist before!”

Danielle’s cheeks flush with pink. “Really?”

“Yeah. I heard DJ Khaled yelling, ‘Another one!’ and I thought it might be the song with your voice on it, so I kept listening, and it was!”

“That’s really cool,” Molly says.

“I really never thought I’d have another song on the radio,” Danielle says. “I mean, it’s only a sample, but–”

“It’s like that song from Fast & Furious,” Christian says. “I bet it’s gonna be huge.” 

“I don’t know about that.” Danielle’s blush grows even deeper.

“I’m with Christian,” Conrad says. “Not that I have any idea what’s going on in pop music, but it sounds like it’s out there now. You should be proud.”

“I am,” Danielle says, nodding.

Molly sighs and surveys the ruins of their celebratory meal. “What a great night. I just can’t believe you kids are going to be juniors already. It’s wild.”

Christian raises both his eyebrows with excitement. “And getting our driver’s licenses.” 

Molly and Conrad trade horrified looks.

“I’m going to let your dad take the lead on that one,” she says. “At least at first.”

“Whatever,” Christian says. “As long as I get to drive.”

Reaching for her wine, Molly says, “At least that’s one thing I don’t have to worry about with Caleb tonight.”

“I’m sure he’s having a good time,” Conrad tells her.

“I know, I know.” Molly forces a smile over the rim of her wine glass. “Just another thing to remind me that my boys are growing up too quickly!”

—–

Caleb slides out of the backseat of his Uber and plants his feet on the sidewalk uncertainly. He hasn’t spent too much time on the north side of town, but the area is much more industrial than he was expecting. He checks the numbers on the front of the dark building against the text that Jasmine sent him and confirms that they match. Hesitantly, he approaches the door set nondescriptly on one end of the front wall.

As he is reaching for the handle, the door is suddenly flung open. A guy — man — probably in his mid-to-late 30s, sporting a black jacket and a goatee, glowers at Caleb.

“What are you here for?” the man asks.

“Oh, uh,” Caleb says, mentally pulling up the exact phrasing of the password from Jasmine’s text. “Barbara’s birthday.”

“Cool. Go on in. Twenty bucks over there.”

He points to a folding table, where a girl with green hair and a nose ring sits with a cash box. Caleb pulls the folded $20 bill from the pocket of his shorts.

“Thanks. You can go on back,” she says, tipping her head toward a curtain. He approaches it, already able to hear thumping house music from within. After passing through the curtain, he finds a short hallway, off of which are a pair of restrooms, and then another curtain. When he pushes that aside, he finally comes upon the party.

The intense music surrounds him as he takes it in. The room is vast and dark; he can make out bodies, and a few glowsticks cut through the blackness. It might as well be the middle of the night, rather than dusk on a summer evening. He scans the area, looking over the gyrating bodies in vain as he hopes to catch sight of Jasmine.

He slowly walks around the perimeter of the large space, wondering if this was a mistake. It sounded exciting and different, and he didn’t want Jasmine to think he was too uncool to come to something underground and edgy, but this is nothing like the house parties and keggers that he has been to.

After a full lap, he still doesn’t see her. He leans against a wall and takes out his phone, but once he pulls up the text thread and begins typing a message, he pauses. Will he seem lame for needing her to come find him? Should he just try and get into the party and bump into her whenever he does?

“Boo!” a voice shouts, cutting through the music, as a finger pokes him in the back.

He turns and sees Jasmine standing there, grinning. She wears a black tank top with thin straps and a pair of ripped-up jean shorts that aren’t much bigger than a swimsuit bottom.

“Hey,” he says, stuffing his phone away. “I just got here.”

“What do you think?” she asks. “Pretty cool, huh?”

Caleb surveys the space again. “Yeah. It’s awesome. Kind of different from what I was expecting.”

Jasmine points toward the stage at one end of the room. “This DJ’s okay. The next one goes on at, like, 10. He’s amazing.” 

“So… what’s the deal with, like, beer?” he asks.

“There’s a bar out back. But they’ll definitely ID you. Do you have a fake?”

He shakes his head.

“I do. I can get you one,” Jasmine says. “Or…”

“Or what?”

She reaches into the pocket of her denim shorts. “Want this?”

He watches as she opens her palm.

“What is it?” he asks, hoping that the answer shouldn’t be wildly obvious.

Jasmine takes one of the two pill capsules and places it in his hand. “It’s molly. It’s really good. Have you never…?”

“No, actually. Is it fun?”

Her eyes widen excitedly. “Super. And that’s only a half. You’ll be fine.”

Caleb looks down at the capsule in his hand, noting the whitish powder inside.

“Did you already take some?” he asks.

“Yeah. It’s just starting to kick in. It’s good.” She smiles broadly at him. “C’mon. It’ll be fun. And I promise you’ll enjoy this a lot more than if you just drank beer.” 

He takes a deep breath. “Sure. Why not?”

—–

In the backyard of Brent Taylor’s house, he and Claire Fisher rest lazily on the cushions of the wicker outdoor sofa.

“Thanks for barbecuing,” Claire says. “It’s so nice to have a quiet night for just the two of us.”

With his arm around her shoulders, Brent pulls her a little closer to him. “Yeah. It really is.”

Something uncertain lingers in the air, and it takes Claire only a few seconds to determine what it is.

“But you’re thinking about the twins,” she says.

After a moment of hesitation, Brent admits, “Yeah. We always had a family tradition of having a celebratory dinner on the last night of the school year. And they only have two of those left after tonight…”

“I hate to tell you this, but it never gets easier.”

“Really?”

“I always thought it would,” she says. “Like Travis would be out of high school, and suddenly I’d be less stressed about where he was or what he was doing or when I’d get to see him. But it never happened.”

“Gee, thanks,” Brent says with a wry chuckle.

“Sorry.”

“No, I get it. They’re our kids. That never stops, no matter how old they get.”

“Yeah.” She leans against him as she stares up at the sky, where ribbons of light pink are set against the pale blue. “I still shudder to think about what could’ve happened to Travis when that guy came to Paula’s house.”

“I can only imagine,” Brent says. “But he’s safe.”

“Thank god. And Paula is free… even if it’s completely bizarre how the D.A. asked the judge to end her sentence then and there.”

Another loaded bout of silence hangs between them.

“What?” she asks, sitting up.

“Nothing. It’s nothing.”

“It’s something. I can tell.”

Brent exhales loudly. “I can’t say much. I’m sorry. It’s work-related.”

“Ah.” She studies his face. “There was more to that, wasn’t there? The D.A. wants something.”

He purses his lips, making it clear that he is holding back information that he simply isn’t at liberty to discuss.

“I knew it,” Claire says more emphatically. “That was too weird. It’s about Rosie, isn’t it? They want to go after her — or that drug dealer, or both.”

He shrugs both shoulders. “Claire…”

“I know. You don’t have to say anything. I’m just thinking out loud. But it makes perfect sense.” She falls quiet as she contemplates this realization. “I hate myself for saying this, but I’m relieved that Travis and Rosie are on the outs now.”

“You are?”

“Yeah. And I know this comes dangerously close to sounding like my father, which is about the last thing I ever want to happen,” she says. “But after the way she lied and put my son in danger — I don’t know that I could get behind them being together. Especially not after what she admitted on the stand.”

“Jimenez was much younger then,” Brent says, careful not to take too passionate a tone. “She’s learned from her mistakes.”

“Given the way she kept everything secret until it blew up in the worst possible way, I’m not so sure of that.”

She sees Brent biting his tongue — figuratively, though he bites his lower lip literally.

“You can’t blame me for preferring that my son date someone who didn’t almost get him killed,” Claire says.

“Of course I can’t,” he responds. “But I like Jimenez, too, and I respect her. I think you’re going to see that she’s willing to go very far to make amends for this entire situation.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it. In the meantime, how about we agree to disagree?”

“I can do that. It’s too nice a night to argue.”

Claire settles back against him, breathing in the clear summer air as she reminds herself of all the great things in her life.

—–

“Here, let’s try this filter,” Bree says as she holds her phone at arm’s length. She and Christian sit on the couch in Molly’s living room, the TV playing unnoticed in the background as they take photos for social media.

On the other side of the wall, Molly and Conrad move around the kitchen, tidying up from dinner.

“Here, dump that in here,” Molly says, holding up a trash bag so that Conrad can scrape some food off a plate before he places it into the sink.

“Stop sticking your tongue out!” Bree squeals from the family room. Her words are broken up by a giggle.

“Ugh, fine,” Christian says with mock annoyance as they resume shooting photos.

In the kitchen, Conrad raises his eyebrows at Molly as they listen to the kids. Molly ties up the trash bag.

“Let me take that,” Conrad says, reaching out for the heavy bag before Molly can protest.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I insist.”

Reluctantly she hands him the bag. She opens the cabinet beneath the sink and hauls out a plastic trash bin nearly overflowing with recyclables.

“I’ll take the recycling out, then,” she says.

Together they make their way out of the kitchen, down a short hallway, and through the laundry room, where Conrad holds the door for Molly to exit to the garage. Another laugh, this time from Christian, echoes from behind them.

“Those two sound awfully cheery,” Conrad comments as they wait for the noisy garage door to open.

“They get along really well.”

They move outside, toward where the garbage pails sit on the side of the house.

“Do you think there’s a little puppy love happening?” Conrad wonders. “They’re becoming inseparable.”

“I don’t know about that,” Molly says as she empties the small recycling bin into the larger container.

“Really?”

“Yeah.” She closes the big, blue recycling bin. “I’m pretty sure Christian isn’t going to wind up with Bree… or any girl.”

Conrad pauses, the plastic trash bag held over the pail. “You think?”

“It’s just the kind of thing a mother knows,” Molly says. “I’ve had a sense since he was young.”

“Have you spoken with him about it?”

“It isn’t my place to bring it up or make him admit to anything before he’s ready. I’ve just always made it clear that Brent and I will love and accept the boys for whoever they are. I don’t want him to feel any stress or anxiety about it being a big deal, because it won’t be — especially not in this house.”

Conrad’s mouth lifts into a smile. “You’re a great mother.”

“I’m trying my best,” she says.

“You’re doing very well. Christian and Caleb are very lucky to have you.”

“Bree is lucky to have you,” Molly tells him. “And so am I.”

“The feeling is mutual,” he says before leaning in to give her a kiss.

—–

The music pounds through the warehouse, somehow dominating the space and also resting pleasantly in the background — at least as far as Caleb is concerned. It isn’t the sort of music that he normally listens to, but right now, it feels perfect. Lights and bodies swirl around him, sometimes in focus, sometimes pleasantly out of it, transforming the big, dark room into a magical wonderland.

Jasmine dances right in front of him. Behind her are a circle of people that his brain recognizes as the friends she introduced him to earlier, none of whose names he can remember, except the guy in the white tank top with the man-bun who is Mark or Max or something like that.

“How’re you feeling?” Jasmine asks as she tilts toward him and raises her voice over the music.

“Good,” he says, unable to suppress a grin that juts across his face.

She returns the expression, her pupils large and her face beaming. “Good. It’s amazing, right?”

“Yeah.” As he continues dancing, he takes another gulp from the bottle of water that Jasmine insisted he get as soon as he took the pill. He can hardly believe how thirsty he has felt the entire time.

“This is so fun,” he says, bringing his face nearer to hers in order to be heard. “I’m glad I came.”

“I’m glad you did, too. Bet you had no idea how cool this would be.”

Still smirking broadly, he shakes his head. He is trying to lock back into the music, which he somehow forgot about despite it surrounding him, when he feels a strange shaking against his leg. For a second, he thinks it is the music itself, somehow thumping inside him — but then he realizes that it is coming from his pocket. He reaches inside and grabs his phone.

“Oh god,” he says, already thirsty again.

“What?” Jasmine cranes her neck to see the screen, where the word ‘Mom’ stands out in shaky letters. “Don’t answer it.”

“She’ll get mad if I don’t.” Caleb freezes in place. “Should I go outside? I can’t even– I don’t know if I can fake sounding sober.”

Jasmine grabs his wrist. “Do not answer. She’ll know something’s up.”

“Then what do I…”

“Text back that you’re in a movie and you’ll call her after. That’s, like, wholesome. And she can’t get mad.”

“Yeah. Okay.” Caleb stares at the phone until it stops vibrating and returns to the home screen. But when he opens up the text thread, the phone is a blur of characters and colors.

“I don’t know if I can text,” he says, fingers stuck above the keyboard.

Jasmine snatches the phone from him. “Here, I’ll do it.”

He watches as she focuses hard and taps out a message. Looking over her shoulder, he is able to tell that it’s coherent enough and only says that he’s in a movie at the moment and will call afterward. After she hits send, he takes the phone back.

“Thanks,” he says. “I can’t believe how weird my eyes are.”

“It happens with phones and TVs and stuff. You’re good.” She places a hand on his chest. “Just relax and have fun.”

“I will. I am. I just need to make sure I make my curfew.”

“You will,” she says, hand lingering on his chest. The touch feels electric, much more intense than simple contact usually does.

“How long am I going to be this messed-up?”

“Like an hour more? Then it’ll kind of go down. You’ll be good.”

He takes a deep breath and another swig of water.

“You’re good,” she says again. She traces a finger down his chest and over his stomach; he flinches instinctively, but again, the touch sends shockwaves through his body.

“That feels good.”

“I bet.” She removes her hand and then places it on his shoulder, which she gives a squeeze. “How about this?”

Caleb feels his eyes rolling back into his head in bliss. “So good.”

“How about this?”

The next thing he knows, Jasmine’s face is right in front of his, and she is kissing him. Her lips are soft, and so is her tongue when it parts his own lips. An instinct takes over, and he kisses her back, the room swirling around him as he ponders how any of this is even real.

END OF EPISODE 926

Is Caleb making a mistake getting involved with Jasmine?
Do you think Molly’s hunch about Christian is accurate?
Will Claire come around to Rosie if she and Travis reunite?
Talk about it all in the comments section below!

Next Episode