"Rockin!" Season II/Episode X
2006-05-03, 2:20 p.m.

“Smaaaaaaash,” Dandy cooed.

He didn’t stir.

“Smaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaash.”

Again, no movement.

“SMASH!”

“Whoa! What? Where’s the fooken fire?” Smash sat up and rubbed his eyes.

Dandy sighed. “You know, the last time a man fell asleep on me I kicked him out and told him never to darken my door again.”

Smash grinned. “But you wouldn’t do that to me. I know too many of your dirty secrets.”

“Oh yeah? And what might they be?” Dandy raised a quizzical eyebrow.

“I know that you like to pick up strange men in sandwich bars. I know that you have other uses for chocolate sauce, other than putting it on ice cream.”

Dandy smiled. “Oh no. My secret is out.”

“Fancy a fuck?”

“Pardon?”

“Would Ms. Robbins care to partake in a little lovemaking session with yours truly?”

“You silver tongued devil. Shall we have champagne?”

“Champagne? Isn’t there any fooken beer left?” Smash was disappointed.

“There’s beer, but you know, I was hoping to refine your tastes to something a little more classy.” Dandy tried not to grin.

“What’s not classy about drinking loads of beer and then being able to belch to the tune of “Ten Green Bottles” afterwards?”

“Nothing I guess. Perhaps I’m just uncultured,” Dandy had to laugh.

“Never mind, babe,” Smash said, seriously, “I’ll teach you some good culture.”

Dandy switched off the light.

* * * * * * * * * *

“What? Why can’t I marry him?” Tart cried. “This isn’t going to be one of your crazy stories again, is it? Oh, don’t tell me! Smed and I are really brother and sister, and in true soap-opera style, you haven’t told me until now because the recent dip in viewing figures means you need a good scandal in time for contract negotiation.”

“Darling, I don’t know where you get your imagination from sometimes,” Theresa sighed down the phone, “but really you are incorrigible.”

“So? Encourage me. Tell me for once, that I am making the right decision and that I am going to live happily ever after with Smed and that everything will be fine.”

“I don’t think so, darling. I mean, the man has cheated on his WIFE with you, and then claims to have fallen in love with you. I’m sure he only said that because when it all came out he didn’t want to be left with no one. How you can even THINK of trusting him is beyond me.”

“But I thought you said you like him,” Tart was welling up.

“I did like him. Or at least the HIM that he portrayed last night. But how do you know you’re not going to be in the same position as his poor wife in a few years time? You might just drop a kid and then he’ll decide that he feels hemmed in and bingo! Off he goes with another tarty little trollope that takes his fancy.

“Mother! I’m not a tart, thank you very much!” Tart had recovered her aplomb.

“Oh I know you’re not CHEAP, dear… perhaps just a little under priced.” Theresa sniffed.

“Pardon?”

“Oh, nothing.”

“Look, Mum. I really love him, and yes, despite the past, I trust him. Can’t you at least be happy for me?”

“Whatever you want, dear.” Theresa sighed, and put the phone down without saying goodbye.

* * * * * * * * * *

“I wondered if you might like to come away for the weekend,” Jim said.

Workcrush’s eyes lit up. “I’d love to! Where?”

“Well, I’ve got a nice little cottage in The Lake District. I thought perhaps you might like to come and sample the country life.”

“I’d love to! It sounds fabulous. A nice relaxing weekend away from the hubbub of the city. It could be just what I need.”

Jim smiled to himself. He was sure it would be no such thing.

* * * * * * * * * * *
Hubbyman sat alone in the house and pondered his next move. Just like he’d been pondering his next move for the last few weeks. He had never felt such loss, such pain, such agony at the way life had so cruelly dealt him the worst hand of all time.

Meanwhile, Candoor booked a flight back to the UK, not realising what he was about to do.

Candora stroked Barista’s hair and gazed into her eyes intently.

He hated her.

Sure, she had been fun for a while. A little pick me up. But she was a piece of cheap trash that had been cheapened further by the fact she had slept with his brother.

Tomorrow was when it would all happen. He would go into the office of YankBank, masquerading as Candoor, transfer a huge sum of money to his father’s bank account, and get the hell out of there.

His nerves were constantly on edge living this double life, and it was time for the game to end.

He kissed Barista on the forehead as she closed her eyes.

“Sleep well, my sweet.”

* * * * * * * * * *
Zon gazed into the eyes of Damien over dinner. She knew she was falling for him, yet for some reason, she felt she shouldn’t. It was hard to explain. She banished such thoughts from her mind and set about thinking positively.

He’s the one. He has to be. I’m not getting any younger. He has to be the one for me. I’ll love him, he’ll love me, I’ll fire Smash, and life will be perfect, without the shadow of my son hanging over my head.

The right decision is not always the easiest one.

“You look deep in thought, Zon,” Damien smiled at her as he poured another glass of wine.

“I was just thinking about you. And me.”

“And were they good thoughts?”

“Very good thoughts. You know, I’ve had many other boyfriends, but I don’t think any of them have ever meant as much to me as you,” Zon said.

“Glad to hear it,” Damien said, a little stiffly. “Glad to hear it.”

* * * * * * * * * *
Theresa knocked on the door.

‘Yes?’ Anita answered, looking harassed.

‘You don’t know me, Mrs Miller,’ Theresa said, ‘but I was wondering if I might have a little chat with you. It concerns your husband, Smed.’

Intrigued, Anita stood aside and gestured for Theresa to come in.

* * * * * * * * * *
Mystic walked back into the office tentatively. She waved her pass at the security guard and noted his surprise at seeing her. She fancied she could hear people whispering about her in the busy reception area, on this, her first day back at work since going into rehab.

But perhaps she was just imagining things. She felt nervous about seeing Smash and Candoor again, and especially Hubbyman, if he was here, but she held her head high and prepared to get on with things.

* * * * * * * * * *
The sky was dark. Hubbyman had waited a long time. He swiped Barista’s pass through the machine and the door opened.

Good.

The office was practically deserted, but he spied Candoor over at his desk, busily working away, a slight expression of worry on his face.

Checking furtively as he went, Hubbyman sneaked across the office and approached Candoor.

Feeling a presence, Candora looked up, his expression confused.

“Ah, Candoor,” Hubbyman said pleasantly. “I’d like a little talk with you.”

“What the fuck do you want?” Candora spat back, angrily, whilst trying to cover up what was on the screen.

“You’ll see. Shall we go upstairs for a cigarette?” Hubbyman grabbed Candora and dragged him out of his chair without waiting for an answer.

* * * * * * * * * *
“So what you’re telling me is that basically you behaved like a complete slut,” Damien said, calmly.

“Damien! I’m not saying that at all,” Zon protested. “At my age did you really expect me to be pure, saving myself for you? I think you’re being totally unreasonable.”

“Don’t you dare talk to me like that! You are mine! You belong to me! And if you disobey me you have to expect to be punished.”

He closed his fist and punched her in the face.

Zon fell to the floor, crying, feeling the blood streaming down her nose. She tried to get up. He kicked her. Again and again.

* * * * * * * * * *
Candoor, having entered his flat and had his suspicions confirmed, drove like a demon to Hubbyman’s house. He had to find Barista. He also had to find Hubbyman. He didn’t know what his brother was up to but he had a pretty good idea.

He knocked on Hubbyman’s door.

No answer.

There was only one place left to look.

The office.

* * * * * * * * * *
Candora puffed heavily on his cigarette, and shivered. It was cold on the roof. He watched the lights of the traffic speeding by far below him and for the first time in his life, he felt afraid.

“So,” snarled Hubbyman, “you set me up, you fuck my wife and the best you can do is say sorry?”

“You don’t understand,” protested Candora, “I’m not the person you think I am.”

“Oh really? Evil twin brother are you? Ha! She’s talking about marrying you, you know. My wife! My fucking wife that you are fucking without any fucking thought for any other fucker. Well I don’t think so mate,” spat Hubbyman. “Tonight it ends.”

“So what are you going to do?”

“Just watch.”

Hubbyman threw a blinding punch at Candora. He stumbled and fell to the ground. The lights went out.

* * * * * * * * * *
“It’s only because I love you, you know,” said Damien, softly, as he dabbed at Zon’s cut face with a wet sponge. “I would never really want to hurt you. I love you.”

Zon felt her strength drain away, as the events of the past few weeks settled on top of her, or rather, came crashing down on her leaving her so, so tired.

“I just want you to be perfect,” said Damien. “I want us to be perfect. And we will be. I love you, don’t you see?”

Zon’s heart sank. She felt such loneliness, such a yearning to be loved, to feel wanted. She put her head on his shoulder and let forth a few quiet sobs.

“Yes,” she said. “Yes.”

* * * * * * * * * *
“Wakey, wakey,” sang Hubbyman.

Candora opened his eyes gradually, then froze as things came into focus. Hubbyman was stood behind him, both hands clamping his arms to his sides.

Worse than that, he was stood on the railing at the top of the building and could see the street far, far below. If he took one step forward…

“Please, Hubbyman, please… you don’t understand. Let me explain some things. They’ll make sense, I promise you, when I’ve told you everything. Just five minutes, that’s all I ask.”

“Ha! You expect me to believe you won’t lie to me? You screwed me over good and proper. Well, now it’s your turn to be on the receiving end.”

Candora tried a different tack. “You’ll go to jail, you know that don’t you? Prison for life. You’ll have nothing.”

“I’ve got nothing now,” growled Hubbyman. “Thanks to you, my wife left me, I’ve lost my job. I can’t afford to pay my mortgage anymore so I’m going to lose my home as well. What is there left to live for? Might as well let the state take care of me at Her Majesty’s pleasure, and at least be satisfied in knowing I did the world a favour in getting rid of you.”

Candora started to weep. He’d always thought he wasn’t scared of dying, but now, faced with it, he knew he wasn’t ready. Oh, if only…

“But enough of the pleasantries,” Hubbyman said, sweetly. “It’s splat time. Enjoy your little trip.”

“Please, no!”

“Don’t cry sweetheart. Parting is such sweet sorrow and all that. Bye bye…”