Dream a Little Dream

Chapter 53

“Robin, eat your oatmeal.”

“Not hungry, Mom,” Robin Scorpio said, slumped in her kitchen chair. Her mother, Anna Devane, looked at her sharply.

“You know you can't be skipping meals,” Anna said. “It's not good for you with your meds.”

“Mo-om,” Robin sighed and rolled her eyes. “I think after almost ten years on the meds, I know what's good and not good for me.”

“Well, if you know what's good for you, you'll face today like a daughter of Robert Scorpio,” Anna said, passing Robin the cranberry juice.

Robin swiftly sat up straight. “What does that mean?” she demanded.

“It means, take your medicine – both pharmaceutically and professionally – with your head held high,” Anna told her.

“Easy for you to say,” Robin groused. “You don't have to spend the next three months handling damage control for Patrick Drake.”

“No, I've just spent months undercover trailing some of the world's most dangerous criminals,” Anna said. “So did your father. Your Dr. Drake is a pussycat compared to that. You can handle him.”

“I guess I have to do it one day at a time,” Robin said. “I remember one time I was home on break from Yale and feeling bad about the future, and AJ told me that he could only look at the future one day at a time. I figure I can make it to 5 o'clock without killing Patrick Drake.”

* * *

“Good morning, favorite ex-wife,” Ned Ashton said as Lois Cerullo walked into his office at ELQ.

“I darn well better rate above Jenny,” Lois shot back. Ned rolled his eyes.

“Oh, Lord, yes,” he replied.

Lois casually flopped into the seat in front of his desk.

“So, how did Boston go?” Lois asked. “Brookie was all vague and 'what-evah' as always.”

“All right, actually,” Ned said. “Brooke was frighteningly well-behaved in the interviews, and impressed the Berklee people with her knowledge of different genres.”

“How'd they like her demo tape?” Lois asked. “She fought us tooth and nail on going acoustic with no layering or editing.”

“It was the right move,” Ned said. “Even Brooke saw that, the way they talked about her voice and personality being front and center as opposed to studio tricks. She went on about how having parents in the business showed her that ultimately talent matters more than technology. They seemed to like her.”

“I hope she gets in there,” Lois said. “Brookie really needs more education, and being around peers who are just as talented will be the best thing for her.”

“A little humbling and some competition are just what she needs,” Ned said in agreement. “She's never had to compete for the spotlight. Maybe this will fire up the ol' Quartermaine drive.”

“And the Cerullo work ethic,” Lois replied. “By the way, I heard from my friend with Disney. Remember that show he put out feelers about Brookie starring in? Production's started and it's gonna air starting next year sometime. They got that country singer Billy Ray Cyrus and his daughter to star in it. They're calling it Hannah Montana.”

“Better them than us,” Ned said, laughing. “Remember Brooke's face when we brought it up? You'd think we'd suggested that she go clean toilets or something, the idea of doing teen pop was so beneath her. I mean, I'm glad she has high standards for music and all, but the idea that someone with no experience and no credentials can look smugly down at honest work ... something about it makes me squirm.”

Lois nodded thoughtfully. “I get what you mean, Nedley,” she said. “I'm hoping that she'll work on the road with me some next summer after graduation. It'll be a good experience for her to see how much hard work it takes behind the scenes to make a singer look good on stage. And it'll be our last summer with her as our kid. After she starts college, we're gonna lose her little by little.”

“But never completely,” Ned said. “She'll be all right.”

* * *

“Good morning, Miss Scorpio.”

Robin swallowed hard and looked up.

“Good morning, Dr. Drake,” she said. “Ready for your first day with us?”

“Absolutely,” Patrick said, determined not to show any weakness in front of Robin.

Robin gave a weak smile.

“Good,” she replied. “You'll be working with Rachel Adair today – she can help you learn the ins and outs of what we do here. This week, you'll be observing.”

“Wait a minute,” Patrick said. “Just observing? I'm a doctor, don't treat me like some student.”

Robin glared back at him.

“First of all, I didn't want to throw you in with no preparation,” she said. “I wouldn't want to be unfair, you know. It was cleared with Dr. Quartermaine, and he thought it was a good idea.”

Patrick clamped his lips shut to avoid an angry retort. He took a deep breath.

“Then I guess it's settled, then,” he said. “I'll go find Dr. Adair.”

“I'm sure you'll be fine,” Robin said with a smile, hoping to defuse him with encouragement. “Have a good day.”

“Thank you,” Patrick said, annoyed at the triumph in her face. He turned and went out.

And he thought I had a stick up me, Robin thought, shaking her head. She turned her attention to the Halloween party plans.

* * *

A faint bit of warmth shone from the sun as Courtney Matthews headed towards Steve Hardy Park, taking Rosie for a late-morning walk. She was going to be meeting Jeremy Logan there to talk about some big plans she had for her foundation.

Nikolas Cassadine had been dropped off from Wyndemere at the dock next to Vagabond. He was meeting Alexis over at Cassadine Intl. offices, then he would spend the afternoon there before picking up Emily for dinner at Vagabond. His car was waiting for him outside Steve Hardy Park, as the parking lot near the dock was finally being paved.

AJ and Michael Quartermaine were walking towards the park. Michael had the day off from school for a dentist's checkup, which he passed with flying colors. As a reward, AJ had taken him to the sporting goods store in the Waterfront District and bought him new lacrosse clothes. Michael, his stick slung over his shoulder, was going to run around for a while in the park before AJ took him to lunch at Kelly's.

PCPD Officer Brian Beck walked the sidewalk near Steve Hardy Park. He was on Waterfront District duty this month, although he wanted to be helping out with the gang investigation in the neighborhood near downtown and the Asian Quarter.

Jeremy saw Courtney in the distance. He remembered when she was ghost-like in her all-white attire. Now, she was alive and colorful in a fitted jacket of purple and teal tweed over a lavender tank top, gray pants and charcoal python boots with a wedge heel. He waved. She waved back.

Just at that moment, the two teenaged boys roughhousing and swearing nearby saw their chance. They ran towards Courtney, who was facing away from them. Jeremy saw them coming – Courtney only got a fleeting second to see the alarm on his face, before she felt herself being pushed. She tottered on her wedge heels, and felt her purse being grabbed. Then she felt the tug against her right hand as she sprawled forward.

In a flash, one of the boys had scooped up Rosie. Laughing and jeering with his friend, who had Courtney's purse, he tossed Rosie out onto Livingston Avenue. There was a screech of tires, a faint thump ...

“ROSIE!” screamed Courtney, scrambling off the ground, the heels of her hands scratched and bleeding, her pants torn, her right knee skinned.

She heard mocking laughter for a moment as the boys ran off. They weren't laughing for long. A moment later, they were slammed to the ground – one by Jeremy, one by Nikolas. AJ ran out into the street to stop traffic. Brian was on the boys in a flash, and had them handcuffed in seconds as they tried to catch their breath.

Courtney saw none of that – all she saw was her precious pug, twisted, whimpering and bleeding on the pavement. She didn't even recognize AJ as she crouched down to look at Rosie.

“Oh, Rosie,” she moaned softly, reaching to stroke Rosie's head. A snarl from Rosie made Courtney snatch her hand back.

“It's all right, girl,” Courtney said in a trembling voice, tears streaming down her face. Then she heard voices.

“Here, put her on this!” said the driver of the pickup truck that hit Rosie, pulling a small piece of plywood out of the bed of his truck and handing it to AJ.

“Cover her with this, Dad!” Michael pulled one of the brand-new jerseys out of the bag and tossing it over. AJ knelt by Rosie, and put the jersey over her face. Before Rosie could snap in protest, AJ had gently but quickly moved her onto the plywood and was slowly standing up.

“Her vet's right down Palmyra Street!” Courtney cried, pointing down one of the cozy side streets. AJ walked quickly, but carefully, so as not to jostle her. “Michael, stay with Jeremy!” he called to his son. Courtney followed AJ silently. She recognized Rosie's rescuer as AJ Quartermaine, but it wasn't registering with her. She only was aware of Rosie.

Meanwhile, Brian had deposited both thugs into the back of a squad car.

“That was pretty dangerous, guys,” Brian said to Nikolas and Jeremy. “They could've been armed. But good work. I'll need you to come down to the station to give a statement – you and your dad, too,” he added, looking at Michael, who nodded.

“Come on, Michael, I'll bring you to your dad,” Jeremy said. “I'll be over in a few minutes,” he said to Brian.

Brian nodded absently. He'd heard one of the teens whisper to the other, “T-Bone's gonna whup our asses, dude.”

T-Bone. Brian remembered that nickname from the gang investigation.

Maybe this beat will pay off after all, Brian thought.

* * *

Courtney gave her information to the receptionist at the veterinarian's office, her heart feeling squeezed with fear and anguish as she saw Rosie being whisked by to be prepped for emergency surgery.

“Mommy, why is that lady crying?” she heard a little boy say. “Hey, lady! What's wrong?”

“You can wait in there, Miss,” the receptionist gently said to Courtney, gesturing towards a quiet room off the lobby, away from the waiting room full of pets and people. The receptionist looked pointedly at the mother of the little boy, who sternly whispered to him to be quiet and stop bothering strangers.

With a dazed, faint smile of gratitude, Courtney pushed the door almost all the way closed, leaving it just slightly ajar. The blinds were drawn, keeping out much of the sun. In the quiet, she huddled on a couch, staring at nothing.

AJ left the restroom, where he'd gone to wash the blood off him. He held Michael's new jersey, completely ruined, wadded in his hand. He saw Courtney alone in the waiting room and was surprised by the pity he felt for her. He walked over to the waiting room.

“Any word?” he asked softly. Courtney, startled out of her fearful reverie, shook her head.

“Not yet,” she said. Just as she was starting to speak again, the door opened and Jeremy and Michael walked in.

“Any word?” Jeremy asked.

“No,” Courtney said. “They took her into surgery right away...” Her throat closed and tears prickled in her eyes.

Michael took a step forward.

“I'm real sorry about your dog,” he said. “I hope she gets better.”

Courtney smiled faintly – AJ was surprised how genuine it looked – and said, “Thank you.” Then added, looking up at AJ, “Thank you, all of you. If Rosie has a chance, it's because of you.”

AJ nodded. “I hope she recovers,” he said.

“AJ, Brian Beck wants us down at police headquarters to give a statement,” Jeremy said. “I'll be back as soon as I can, Courtney.”

Courtney smiled and nodded at Jeremy.

“That's fine,” she said. “Thank Mr. Cassadine and Officer Beck for me, too, please. I can't believe what those boys did. If Officer Beck wants a statement from me, I'll be here.”

“All right,” Jeremy said, with a gentle squeeze of Courtney's hand. “I'll see you in a bit.”

* * *

Georgie Jones paced impatiently outside Port Charles High School. Her boyfriend, Dillon Quartermaine, was supposed to pick her up and take her to her after-school volunteer job at Ward House.

He was never late, which worried her. The buses had already left. Brooke Lynn had gone to L&B studios after school. Lulu was working on the student paper. Serena had a student government meeting. Maxie was in class at PCU. Felicia was on a stakeout. Georgie was stuck if Dillon didn't show up, but she was loath to call Mac, because he might hold it against Dillon.

Just then, she heard a horn. She saw it was her cousin, Lucas Jones, pulling up in front of the school. He pushed the passenger door open.

“Dillon got held up after class,” Lucas said. “He texted me to come get you.”

“Thanks!” Georgie said, sliding into the passenger seat. “Why didn't he call?”

“You were still in class, and he knew that the school was cracking down on calls during classes,” Lucas said.

“Oh,” Georgie said. They rode in silence for a few minutes as the after-school traffic crawled. Looking over, Georgie saw tension in Lucas' face.

“You all right?” she asked.

“Yeah, why?” Lucas replied quickly, almost aggressively.

“Um, no reason, except you look a little tense, there,” Georgie said, taken aback by Lucas' demeanor.

“Sorry,” Lucas said. “Long day.”

Georgie looked keenly at him. He looked pale, and a little tired. He hardly made eye contact anymore, but always seemed to be looking for a way out of a room, a corner, a conversation.

“You've had a lot of long days lately,” Georgie said gently.

“What does that mean?” Lucas snapped.

“Just that,” Georgie retorted. “You've been acting miserable ever since you came back from camp. Did something happen there?”

You have no idea, Lucas thought. But he kept that to himself.

“Nothing happened there,” he said. “It was camp, it was good.”

“Then is it school? Starting college?”

“School's fine,” Lucas said, silently cursing the driver of the minivan ahead of him who stayed well under the speed limit.

Georgie looked out the window for a few minutes, sad and frustrated. She and Lucas had always been close. Maxie had older kids like Tommy Hardy for playmates, but Lucas was always there for Georgie. Now she sensed he needed someone there for him, and he wasn't letting her be that someone.

“Then what is it?” Georgie asked.

“What's what?” Lucas parried. “You're making something – I'm not sure what – out of nothing.”

Georgie sighed. She knew a brick wall when she saw one.

“Fine,” she said shortly.

Lucas sighed with relief that Ward House was ahead. He stopped the car. Georgie got out, then turned around and leaned in.

“You're not fooling me, Lucas Jones,” she said. “But I'm still here when you need me.”

She slammed the door and walked up the front walk to Ward House, waving to some children playing in the yard.

Lucas sat silent for a few moments, gripping the steering wheel to stop his hands from trembling.

I have to do better hiding this, Lucas thought. Oh, God, Brandon. What do I do?

* * *

“Good work, Beck,” Mac Scorpio said. “If you hadn't have been paying attention, we would never have connected them with the gangs.”

“What now, sir?” Brian asked in a soft voice.

“We're not going to let on that we know about T-Bone or the gangs,” Mac said. “Too soon for that. But we are going to put the fear of God into them and their parents. Thanks to the fact that we have two Quartermaines, a Cassadine, and a Hardy relative as witnesses and a wealthy philanthropist as the victim, those kids and their parents are going to be feeling the heat.”

“What can I do to help, sir?”

“Pull any records you can find about these kids,” Mac said. “Check the school database. Anything you can find out about them would help. Murphy's finishing up taking Cassadine's statement.”

“I'll get right on it, sir,” Brian said, and went to work. Mac looked after him thoughtfully.

“What is it?” Marcus Taggert asked.

“Beck,” Mac said sotto voce. “He's got what it takes to make detective. There aren't any openings, though.”

“Still,” Marcus replied, “we can encourage him to work towards it if that's what he wants.”

Mac nodded. “Absolutely,” he said.

Just then, the quiet bustle of the squad room was shattered by the blustering bellicosity of a slick-haired, low-rate lawyer Mac recognized from over-loud television and radio ads. This is gonna be fun, Mac thought, suppressing a grin.

* * *

The waiting room was quiet – too quiet – after everyone left. The silence frayed Courtney's nerves.

“Anything?”

Courtney nearly jumped out of her skin at Jeremy's question.

“Sorry,” she said with a shaky laugh. “Bit jumpy. No, nothing yet. What happened at the police station?”

“The police took my statement and I picked the goons out of a lineup,” Jeremy said. “They seemed really interested in this case.”

“Maybe because of who we are?”

“No, that wasn't it,” Jeremy said. “Nor should it have been. But there was something else going on, the way Mac and the other officers acted, like this was something urgent.”

“Animal cruelty should be urgent,” Courtney said. “I hope they get the book thrown at them.”

Just then, the veterinarian walked in.

“She made it,” the vet said. Courtney slumped in her seat in relief. Then she sat straight again.

“And?” she asked. “Will she be all right?”

“I believe so,” the vet said. “There was a lot of internal bleeding, but no organ damage, so she should be all right in time ...”

Courtney heard nothing else as she put her head in her hands and sobbed wildly in relief. Jeremy stroked her hair.

* * *

Mac took the popcorn bag out of the microwave in his office. As commissioner, he didn't have to handle attorneys very often, so he decided not to draw attention to this case and let Marcus handle things as he usually would. Still, he could listen from his office and enjoy the fun. Mac cracked the door a bit, opened a bottle of Diet Pepsi and listened.

“I do not see why my client is being held,” the lawyer said. “He's a juvenile and this is about a dog, fer cryin' out loud. Even if my client did what you're accusing him of, Courtney Matthews is wealthy – she can always get another dog.”

“Charming as always,” Marcus replied. “Law enforcement is taking animal cruelty seriously now, especially when it's done by minors. Kids who abuse animals are more likely to graduate to abusing humans. So don't give me any of this 'just a dog' crap. What those boys did was sick and degenerate.”

“Who you calling degenerate?” the boy's father bellowed, pushing his way forward. “My kid's a good kid! That rich bitch is lying and so is everyone she's got backing her up!”

Nikolas was standing in the doorway of an interrogation room, having finished giving his statement. He recognized the father as a mid-level manager at Cassadine Intl. headquarters.

“Really? Would you like to call me a liar to my face?” Nikolas said coldly.

The man whirled, and his face went gray as he recognized Nikolas.

“I was there,” Nikolas said. “I saw your son and his friend mug Courtney Matthews and throw her defenseless dog into the street. Who do you think a jury will believe? A low-life brat trying to pose as some hood? Or the Cassadine prince?”

The father swallowed hard.

The lawyer turned to Marcus.

“This showboating is ridiculous,” he said. “I demand to see the commissioner.”

“The commissioner has more important things to do than deal with siren-chasers,” Marcus retorted. In his office, Mac smothered a laugh.

Meanwhile, Nikolas was staring down the father, who knew the Cassadines had the power and resources to ruin lives. Everyone knows what they did to Sonny Corinthos. The father touched the lawyer's arm.

“Forget it right now,” he said. “Let's go see my boy and talk things through.”

Nikolas watched them go, seeing defeat in the man's slumped shoulders.

“Do you need anything else?” Nikolas asked. Marcus chuckled.

“No, I think you've been plenty of help today,” he said. “Thanks. Someone from the DA's office will be in touch if they need you to testify.”

They shook hands, and Nikolas left. Mac walked out of his office grinning.

“Taggert 1, lawyers 0,” he said. “Let's get Lansing and Durant over here to talk surveillance of these two clowns. They could lead us right to the big boys.”

* * *

Carly looked up in surprise and a slight fear as she heard Michael and AJ talking softly as they walked up the stairs. She was in the nursery, changing Morgan's diaper. Leticia had the afternoon off. Carly quickly dressed Morgan, then set him down in his playpen while she went out into the hall.

“You're early,” she said as they came down the hall. Fear turned to alarm as she saw Michael's glum face.

“What happened?” she demanded.

“We saw something that was pretty upsetting,” AJ said. “Two teenaged punks threw ... a dog into the road and it got hit.”

“Oh, my God!” Carly gasped. “That's terrible!”

“Dad was a real hero, Mom,” Michael said. “He went out into the street and stopped traffic, and helped bring the dog to the vet.”

“Michael gave me one of his jerseys to wrap around the dog,” AJ said.

“That was really good of both of you,” Carly said. “Did the dog make it?”

“We don't know,” Michael said. “Miss Matthews said it was still in surgery when we left.”

Carly's face darkened and her eyes flashed dangerously.

“Who?!” she demanded, staring at AJ.

“Calm down, Carly,” AJ said. “It was her dog.”

“You let Michael near that gutter whore, and you're telling me to calm down about it?!” Carly shrieked. As she shook her head in fury, AJ nodded to Michael to go to his room. Michael vamoosed.

AJ folded his arms in condescending superiority and looked at Carly.

“What did you want me to do, Carly, let the dog die?” he asked.

“It's not about the dog!”

“Yes, it was!” AJ shouted. “I don't like Courtney Matthews, but even she didn't deserve what those to thugs did, and the dog sure as hell didn't!”

“I don't care about the dog, I care about Michael!” Carly yelled.

“Bull! This is about you!”

Carly set her jaw and glared at him.

“You don't like Courtney, so you're glad she's hurting!” AJ shot back. “And, normally, I wouldn't care about her, either, but I had to set an example for Michael about being kind to animals and to help the police catch criminals. I couldn't stand by and let an innocent dog die simply because I don't like its owner! Maybe that's the way they settle things at Sunny Side Trailer Park, but Quartermaines are better than that.”

Carly's nostrils flared at the low blow. She stomped away towards their bedroom.

“Enjoy the guest room, Lord AJ,” she snarled over her shoulder, then slammed the door. AJ heard the slide and click of the deadbolt.

* * *

Luke Spencer watched a quiet afternoon's gambling action at the Haunted Star. This was always a dull time of year – right after summer vacation and leaf-peeping seasons and right before the holidays.

He was thinking of taking off early and calling up Cameron Lewis for an evening of cigars, liquor and solving all the world's problems from the Spencer front porch.

His cell phone vibrated against his hip. Luke picked it up. Unknown number. A mild shock jolted through him. He was surprised to feel his hands trembling a bit as he pressed the receiver button.

“Yo.”

People coming and going nearby had no idea that Luke's life was about to become quite adventurous, and quite near the edge of life and death. His face showed nothing as he listened to Frisco Jones on the other end.

“All right, see you then,” was all Luke said. Then he ended the call. With no change of expression, he left the bar, went down to his office and closed and locked the door. With a deep breath, he punched in the code for Laura's cell phone.

“Angel, the call came.”