"Rockin!" Season II/Episode V
2006-02-07, 1:08 a.m.

“Please, Tart,” Smed begged. “I’ve simply got to see you.”

“Why?”

“Because… because I want to know you’re alright.”

“I’m fine. Thank you and goodbye.”

“Tart, wait!” Smed was desperate.

“It’s over, Smed. How could I possibly ever trust you again? You lied to me. You lied to your wife. What happens when you get tired of me? You take off with another girl and lie to her and me too?”

“That won’t happen!”

“I know it won’t happen. I won’t let it happen. Goodbye, Smed,” said Tart, sadly, and put the phone down.

In his hotel room, Smed sank down onto the bed, and sobbed.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
“How dare you!” Zon flung at Damien. “You disgust me!”

“Oh my god. Oh my god.” Damien’s hands rushed up to his face in shock. “Oh, Zon. I’m so sorry. I don’t know what came over me. It won’t happen again. Please believe me.”

“You hit me because I voice legitimate concerns about going away for a weekend with you? You’re pathetic! I think it’s time we called it quits.”

“No, no. Please, Zon, forgive me. Look, I’ve had a hard time lately. I was worried about you what with the shooting and everything, and I was sure you were giving me the brush off, and I just wanted to make you happy, Zon. I didn’t mean anything by it, I just lashed out. Don’t ruin what could be a great relationship just because I made one mistake. I beg of you, reconsider.”

Zon softened slightly, but not much. “I’ll think about it. But right now, I’d really like to go home.”

“Of course, of course. I’ll drive you.”

They drove to Zon’s in silence. When she got out of the car, she didn’t kiss him goodbye.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
“So, doc, when can I get out of here?” Hubbyman asked.

“Well, you are doing tremendously well… but I think it’s going to be at least another two or three days yet.” The doctor checked Hubbyman’s chart.

“Look, is there no way I can get out of here any quicker? Please, look, I’ll get complete rest and everything. I just want to be at home with my… wife.”

“In short, Mr. Travers, I am unable to insist you stay here for any amount of time. You are free to discharge yourself as and when you wish, but I quite categorically state that I would not advise it.” The doctor fixed Hubbyman with a hard stare.

“Good. In that case I want to leave in the morning.” Hubbyman was determined.

“As you think fit, Mr. Travers. I’ll make the necessary arrangements.”

“Thank you, doc.”

Alone once again in his room, Hubbyman smiled. Time to fully formulate the plan and get things back on track.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Again Criminal went in for the kill.

“So, Mystic. We heard a little about your childhood yesterday, didn’t we? Do you have anything you wish to say about the sort of feelings this brought up?”

“No.” Mystic mumbled her answer and kept her eyes to the floor.

“Sorry?” Criminal’s voice was cheerful. “You have something to say? Go on then, we’re all listening, dear.”

“How about I hate my fucking family and wish they were all dead?”

“Well that’s a start I suppose. Why do you feel this way?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“Not really. Does anyone in the group have any idea why Mystic should hate her family so much? Anyone?” The group sat there, silent.

“No. Perhaps you should tell us, then?” Criminal smiled.

“I was always made to feel like an outsider. No one ever listened to me, no one ever believed anything I told them. They weren’t interested in anything I did. It was all Katie this, Katie that. I hate her, the lucky bitch.”

“Hate is a strong word, Mystic. Are you sure that’s what you are feeling? Or is it something else?”

“No, I hate her. It’s her fault my life is ruined. It’s her fault I’m here in this place, where everyone is under the misapprehension I have a drug problem.” Mystic felt the familiar pain start throbbing in her chest, and bit back the tears.

“Ah. Well that’s fine.” Criminal sat back, satisfied.

“Fine?” Mystic was confused.

“Yes, it’s fine. It’s so good to get these feelings out in the open, don’t you think?”

“Er, yes. Yes, I suppose it is.” Mystic wasn’t sure where this was leading, but she couldn’t shake the dark foreboding that had settled in her stomach.

“Good. Because Katie is coming in to see us after lunch and you will be able to have it out with her then.”

“What?” Mystic was incredulous, scared and panicky at the same time.

“Lunchtime everyone!” Criminal jumped up and shepherded everyone out. “Can’t be late! You know how annoyed cook gets!”

Mystic stayed sat in her chair, rigid with shock. Tom and Jeanette came and put their arms around her, and helped her out of the room to lunch.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Dandy walked into Smash’s bedroom. Jennifer was sat by the window, reading. Smash was asleep.

The room was just as Smash left it, when he moved out years ago. Metallica, Iron Maiden, Slayer and Megadeth posters adorned the walls, as did various pictures of semi-naked bombshells draping themselves over various “classic” automobiles. Dandy laughed inwardly. Typical, she thought.

“Hello, Dandy,” Jennifer smiled and spoke quietly. “It’s good of you to come. How are you?”

“I’m fine.” Dandy sat down too. “How is he?”

“He’s doing very well, but he still gets very tired, hence the frequent napping. He still hasn’t got his appetite back, though.”

“Really? He eats like a horse at work. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him when he hasn’t been munching on a sandwich or crisps or chocolate bar. Bless him.” Dandy felt a surge of protectiveness as she looked at Smash in slumber, his long mane draped hap-hazardly across the pillow.

“I know. My poor baby.” Jennifer’s lip started to wobble.

“Don’t worry, Jennifer. He’ll be fine. I know he will.” Dandy patted Jennifer on the arm.

“I know. Forgive me. I’m just being silly. Anyway, tell me the gossip! He is always talking about you. Would it be rude to assume that you’ve become rather… close?”

“Umm, you could say that. Is that a problem?” Dandy was suddenly worried, as if she expected Jennifer to suddenly mutate into one of those “no-woman-is-good-enough-for-my-son” mothers, and throw her out of the house.

“No! My god, no! Bob and I have been praying for years that he’ll settle down with someone steady. He does have a rather er…” Jennifer tailed off, unable to find the words.

“Healthy appetite for the ladies?” Dandy finished for her.

“You could say that.” Jennifer giggled. “But he means no harm.”

“I know.” Dandy grinned, a little part of her – well a rather big part actually – hoping that she was the one for Smash, and he for her.

“Nah Danderz, you’re just number four on my huge list of babes,” Smash grinned at them, cheekily.

“How long have you been awake?” Jennifer scolded, but without anger.

“Long enough, hehe. Hi Dandy.”

“Hi yourself.”

“Can I get either of you a drink?”

“Ooh, a beer would go down rather well,” Smash attempted.

“You can have a cup of coffee, and think yourself lucky. Coffee, Dandy?” Jennifer rose to her feet.

“Yes please.” Jennifer left, and Smash and Dandy sat in silence for a moment, grinning at each other.

“I hope you don’t mind me dropping in unannounced,” Dandy said.

“Not at all,” Smash was still grinning. “Not at all.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Enjoying their weekend, both dimly aware that trouble lay ahead for them, Candoor and Barista lay in bed, wrapped around each other, holding each other in the sunlit room with the curtains drawn.

“Do you love me?” Candoor asked.

“You know I do.” Barista answered.

“More than him?”

“I don’t know. I think so. Please, don’t pressure me. You know I love you but I need time to work things out in my own mind.”

”I know. Don’t worry, I’ll give you all the time in the world,” Candoor said, desperation clutching at his heart. He wanted this more than anything in the world. He really, really did. He knew now that what he wanted couldn’t be bought, sold or traded. It wasn’t the satisfaction of endless zeroes in a bank account. It wasn’t gold, it wasn’t jewels, and it wasn’t a massive house in the country.

It was just love.

Barista knew she wanted Candoor. But did she?

Do I? she asked herself. Or do I just want him more than Hubbyman? If I’m going to do this, it has to be it. Candoor has to be the one.

Presently, there came a knock on the door.

“Don’t answer it,” Barista begged, wanting to keep him close to her.

“It won’t take a minute. It might be something important.” Candoor leapt out of bed and threw on his dressing gown. He walked down the stairs, his heart light and happy, every fibre of his being praying he’d get the girl.

He was certainly unprepared when he flung open the front door and found Hubbyman’s fist smashing into his face with enough force to knock him onto his arse.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Outside the church, Workcrush quietly sniffled into a hankie, and felt better. She wanted to go on living her life now that Mark had finally been laid to rest. She was about to walk out into the street to see if she could hail a cab, when she noticed the stranger who had been inside the church for the service approach her.

“Hi,” he offered his hand to her, “I’m Jim Dennis. I’m a… was an old friend of Mark’s. We were at school together.”

“Hello. Thank you for coming.” Workcrush stuffed the sodden hankie into her bag. “I’m sorry, I don’t know you. I don’t recall Mark mentioning you before.”

“Oh, I haven’t seen him in years. I just read about the story in the paper.” There was a slight pause, and then he asked “Can I offer you a lift somewhere?”

“Oh, thank you but I’m going to catch a taxi. It is very kind of you, though.”

“Seriously, why pay good money when I’ll give you a lift for free? I promise it’s no trouble.” Jim smiled at her, and for the first time in a long time, WC remembered what it felt like to be attractive to the opposite sex.

“Sure,” she smiled back. “Why not?”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
“I suppose I’ve known for a very long time that Mystic had a problem with drugs,” Katie said to a startled Mystic, who couldn’t believe that the sister she hadn’t seen for years was before her, in the flesh. “I mean, she was always a heavy pot smoker, and with all her social outings, even form a very early age, I suppose it would be naďve to think that she wasn’t taking other drugs as well.”

Mystic recovered her senses, and felt the anger bubbling merrily away inside her. “And how the fuck would you know what I got up to, you spoilt little cow? You, the golden girl who could do no wrong! I suppose you came here to have a good laugh at me, you selfish little bitch!”

“Mystic!” Criminal scolded. “At least have the common decency to be polite to someone who has gone out of their way to try to aid your recovery!”

“For a start,” Mystic yelled, “there is nothing wrong with me, and secondly, she doesn’t give a shit about me! She only came to have a good look at fucked up Mystic so she can go back and report to the family about how I’ve ended up in this godforsaken hell hole of a place! They’ll all have a good laugh over their cheese and biscuits tonight, I’ll bet.”

“It’s not like that at all!” Katie started to cry. “I just wanted to help!”

Criminal calmed the situation down. “Katie,” she said, gently “tell us about how you and Mystic got on as children.”

“Very well, at first.” Katie dabbed her eyes with a tissue. “Then, when I started modelling, things started to go downhill. Mystic was always so quiet and withdrawn after that. She became very jealous of me. I got sent away to a private school for six months every year, and when I came back it was as if we barely knew each other. It made me very sad.”

“Sad? Sad? You’re so pathetic. I should have been the one who was sad! You had the life of riley! What did I have? Nothing, that’s what! You had this pretty girl, charming existence, and I had fuck all!”

“That’s not true!” Katie protested, “Mummy and Daddy loved you, but you were just this selfish, spiteful little cow who went round smashing up my toys and things. You even broke all of Daddy’s golfing trophies and scratched his car with your bike. And you always told him you hated him. He did nothing but show you kindness and love.”

“Is this true, Mystic?” Criminal asked. “Why this vendetta against your father?”

“I hated him,” Mystic stated simply.

“Why?” Criminal enquired.

“No reason,” Mystic shrugged. “I just did.”

“Oh, there’s always a reason,” Criminal said, smugly. “Now, tell us what it is.”

Katie sat there expectantly, and whether or not it was Mystics imagination, she was sure she saw a faint smile play across her lips. The other members of the group were on the edge of their seats, sensing a revelation.

“Okay, I’ll tell you what it is. I hated my father, my dear, beloved father, for the kindness and love he showed me. Too much kindness and love for a seven year old, wouldn’t you say? For years he sexually abused me until I finally got the nerve to run away when I was thirteen.”

The room was silent. Nobody moved, and nobody spoke. The only audible sound was Mystic crying the tears that her seven year old self had never been able to shed all those years ago.