P: What Lies Before

Spencer sat uncomfortably in the chair across from his counselor, his shoulders slightly hunched forward, hands clasped loosely in his lap, as if suffering from a sour stomach. The dark grey suit he wore, muted tie cinched up tight around his neck in a double-Windsor knot, was rumpled in the peculiar way earned only by long hours spent in the driver's seat of a car.

Why did I join? he scoffed at the nosy impertinence of the question, snapping out the response almost before the counselor had finished speaking. Why did I join? he thought to himself, his aquiline features and sharp, almost predatory eyes smoothing from a look of disdain to one of private reflection.

This will be hard for you to understand, seeing as how you're just a desk jockey with a comfortable office and chummy colleagues you can buddy up with at the water cooler, but it's lonely out there he said after a momentary pause, gesturing to the streets outside, invisible behind the curtains of grey office building walls. Lonely and violent, dripping with the pain of others. Cops out there, they gotta be a sponge. A pain sponge. And lady, I was all full. I needed to be wrung out and left to dry, to be allowed to forget, to be absolved of all the things I've seen and done. The church was a way to do that. To help relieve some of that weight and pressure. It was more than that too. It was a way for me to keep helping others while helping myself, you know? All working towards the same thing. Emptiness, he gestured vaguely in the air.

Spencer’s moment of waxing reflective vanished as suddenly as it had come on. Refocusing his eyes to the counselor he snapped, Now what the hell does any of this have to do with my pension?

Scars to be dealt with. Spencer did not like the sound of that ominously phrased statement. It sounded as if they wanted to toss him into a looney bin.

What, twenty-two years of rapes, murders, suicides and abuse cases aren't enough for you? But you know exactly what I'd like to forget, so lets not pretend otherwise. I get it, the LAPD is a big organization and you're a very important person, but it was only in half a dozen newspapers around the city, not to mention all the after-action debriefings at the station.

A high speed car chase on wet roads. A young recruit too hot-blooded and bulletproof to stop and a Field Training Officer too dumb to tell him over the radio to call it off. I don't know how a car catches fire like that, never made any sense to me. Almost seemed like magic. But he burned to death just the same, right there in front of me. Saw him melting like a fuckin' candle and all I could do was sit there and watch, listening to him scream. The door was fused shut, you see? Couldn't even get him out by the window. Turns out those vests, Spencer tapped his chest slowly, measured, forcefully, are good for stopping rounds from handguns, but they're mighty flammable. Thing was fused to his chest along with the seatbelt and the rest of his uniform. That contextual enough for you?

If you face a bull head on you get trampled. That's why those fellas in rodeos jump into barrels to hide, and sister that's all I am, just a rodeo clown. The church is helping me "process" just fine. Wonderfully, in fact.

"Come on, Harry." Amanda replies uncomfortably from the seat across the desk from her editor. "We both know this Emptiness malarkey is a sham to whitewash the sullied reputations of Hollywood's faces. If we can catch Verity Harrow red-handed in the lie of her sudden transformation to sobriety, via the Church of Sunyata, the people will finally have proof its all smoke and mirrors."

Besides, Amanda thinks to herself. If I can bring down that smirking facade of ultra-conservatism the church projects, all the better. Frick'n hypocrites.

"Sur-ah thing, Harry: A Boston Crème." Amanda acknowledges and stretches out a little in her seat. "I'll put that on order as soon as I get back with our story."

"Well, I was lost, like most of us were, just barely making it through the day, then I found a pamphlet for the church. It was not very good let me tell you, I instantly knew I could do better for them in the public relations department. So, I took the pamphlet and decided to go have a talk with the preacher, pastor or holy man about it and a possible job. Little did I know, he was going to save me that day. I did a little pick me up, just a quick snort before going in to talk, you know to give me the energy I thought I needed. It was as if he had been watching me, but it was impossible, I was in my car on the side of the church that there was no windows. I walked in and introduced myself, but he cut me off and told me the church could give me all the energy I needed and that I would never need to snort another line. I looked into his eyes and just knew he was telling me the truth."

"As Soon as I met him I knew, before that I was thinking it just a job, another item on my resume."

Its still an ungodly early hour in Hollywoodland, as Amanda strides through the trailers with clipboard and David's preferred morning brew in hand. She approaches the one with his name taped up beside the short steps and the door. With a step up, she raps on the trailer door with the back of her hand and knuckles. "Mr. Otera. Morning. Time for your hair and makeup, Sir."

David rolls off the built in sofa bench, pissed that the day is starting already. He gets to his feet, bumping the table nearby and nocking several bottles and half empty glasses to the floor.

"God Damn It! This better be good!"

David stomps all the way to the front door and opens it loudly and aggressively. The face that emerges from the trailer is tired and unshaven with a heavy smell of mint mouthwash reeking from every pore.

"What! Oh... its you..."

He glares at Amanda as if she's the source of his many life problems.

"I assume you have my coffee?"

"Yes Sir." Amanda holds out the lidded cup she's brought to him. "Its as you've requested Mr. Otera." She adds, fidgeting slightly and holding the clipboard down against her thigh.

"Good! Now be a good little assistant and go tell them that I’ll be out in 10 minutes"

He’ll grab the drink and slam the door on Amanda. Back inside, he’ll grab his bottle of happy pills and pop a couple down his throat.

He shaves and dresses fairly quickly, taking the time straighten his own hair before letting the pros do it.

Looking in the mirror, he takes a deep breath to center himself.

"Ok David, let’s go out there and be the star you were born to be"

He walks out of the trailer, looking like the David Ortega everyone knows and loves.

Amanda blinks as the door is slammed in her face and takes a step back and off the steps. "Will do. Yes Sir." She calls back to David through the walls of the trailer.

'Prick' She mutters under her breath and walks a short distance away. Amanda touches the button on her headset and informs hair and makeup Mister Otera will be arriving in ten minutes.

Spencer approached Blake in the same manner he tried to approach everyone with, coming up on him unawares. He liked the startled expressions that flashed across their faces as they tried to remember if they had been doing anything unseemly.

Brian tells me we have an issue to deal with. Something about a family and bad press? he asked, fishing out a cigarette from inside his rumpled suit jacket.

Hop in the car and you can give me the details on the way. Spencer didn’t bother explaining where they were going, assuming it would be self evident he wanted to case the family house.

Seems to me that the way forward is get the family to publicly recant. Or, worse case scenario we scare ‘em into silence and the story disappears on its own. If you have anything to add, I’m listening. Otherwise Ill wait for one of them to get home from work and make them see reason.

"I believe a talk with the family is in order. We will go from there on how we should proceed. Unless you want to handle it and I'll work on something else."

Right, he said, slamming the parking brake up as they stopped in front of the house. You don’t need to come in if you don’t want. You’ve got your public face to think about, and things might turn…hostile.

Not giving any time for Blake to think, Spencer hopped out of the car and moved in long, even strides to the house, looking for a simple way to get inside.

Blake watches Spencer, but makes no move to get out.

Guess I won’t be there to surprise them when they get home he thought to himself. He rang the doorbell, hoping it would be the father who answered.

Spencer sighed to himself. He had really been hoping it was the husband who answered. Call him old fashioned, but it was somehow a little easier on his conscience to sucker punch a man in the gut.

Instead of a punch to the gut he shifted his bulk into the door frame, making it impossible for the woman to shut the door on him.

Well ma’am, I sure hope so. You see, you’ve been badmouthing a lot of people lately, he said, calmly pulling out a cigarette and lighting it, blowing the smoke past her face into the front room. If I can offer you a little lesson, people don’t tend to like it when you bad mouth them. Now, he continued, that lesson was free, but if I have to come back here I’m gonna charge my full fee. And trust me, that’s a bill you don’t want to pay, got me? So enough with the bad mouthing and accusations. Do we understand one another?

Well, Hank, trouble is everything ain’t alright at all. Your wife here has more guts than brains, because intimidate you is exactly what I’m trying to do. Because when intimidation doesn’t work, well, that’s when things turn nasty. Spencer shifted his focus back to the woman. You got a real nice family here ma’am. Shame if anything happened to them.

Yes, we’re done. Enjoy your evening he said, giving a nod to the couple before turning his back on them and walking back to the car. He genuinely hoped it would be the last time the three of them ever met.

He sat down heavily in the car and pulled out an antique flask from his coat pocket, offering some to Blake before taking a swig himself. Things like this always put a bad taste in his mouth, but if it was for the church then it was the right thing to do. He could always be emptied of his woes later.

There, that’s settled. No more bad press, he said to Blake. Give you a lift to the church? I’m going to take a look at that movie set they’ve got going.

I’ll ride along to the set.