Bebe Goes To Hollywood: 3

 

The movie's production is underway, the surgery has been scheduled, and John is ready to become
a complete girl forever, but TMZ has evidence of John's true biological sex, obtained from an
unknown source. How can Bebe and friends persuade them not to make that evidence public?
As always, our heroine is in pretty deep and troubled waters.

---

 
Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who has continued to offer critiques of these stories.
Please keep your comments and criticisms coming! It's the only way I'll get better at writing these stories.
Thank you so much! TTFN. ~Clara.
 
This version of Bebe Goes To Hollywood: 3 has been updated with many corrections towards spelling and grammar.~Sephrena.
 
Image Credit: Image created through the use of ai at https://perchance.org/beautiful-people .~Sephrena.

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Chapter 3

"It's like I'm out in a big boat, and I see one fellow in a rowboat who's tired of rowing and wants a free ride, and another fellow who's drowning. Who would you expect me to rescue? The man who's just tired of rowing and wants a free ride? Or those men out there who are drowning? Any ten year old child will give you the answer to that."
~ Gary Cooper in 'Mr Deeds Goes To Town.'
 

"So, what did the message say?" Don asked as he handed John and Oscar soft drinks on the porch.

John held up his phone and showed Don the text. 'CALL ME RIGHT AWAY. VERY IMPORTANT.' The name at the top of the screen indicated that the text was from Austin Meadows, the reporter from TMZ who John had been able to keep on a short leash for the last few months.

"Who do you think told him?" Don asked, very concerned.

"I have no idea." John's eyes were heavy with tears, but he hadn't cried, yet.

"Well, I guess the first thing to do is find out what he knows and then, maybe after that, we can find out who told him." Don pulled the cap off of a bottle of micro-brewery beer and sat facing them. "Did anyone get upset about the conversations you had with them? Did anyone suggest going to the press?"

John shook his head. "Blaine was upset at first, but he calmed down and MK suggested that I could be a role model if I spoke out about trans issues, but Blaine would never do something like this and, to be honest, MK's not smart enough to get in touch with Meadows."

"So," Don sipped his beer, "getting away from family and friends, you're sure none of the costumers saw anything."

"I don't think so," John thought carefully. "No. Even if they caught a glance, they couldn't have seen enough to be sure."

Don nodded. "Ok, well, I think it's best to keep the studio's publicity out of this as long as possible, so maybe the best thing to do is start by calling Mr Meadows and see what he thinks he knows."

"I don't know, Don," Oscar said. "Won't the studio publicity department be ticked off if this blows up into something big and they didn't have a chance to handle it from the get-go?"

Don let out a sardonic chuckle. "You have a lot more faith in the Studios than I do, my friend. In my opinion, the only people working in publicity for the studios are the idiot sons and daughters of the idiots who did the same jobs a generation ago. No, I believe, in these cases, it's better to do something and apologize than to turn something this sensitive over to those people."

"Ok," Oscar shrugged. "I'm sure going to miss you guys though."

He smiled at the joke he'd made, but Don took a deep breath and grimaced, "Yeah. Well, here goes nothing." He took John's phone, pushed the correct contact, turned on the 'speaker' function and waited while it rang.

"Bebe." Meadows' voice was excited and overly friendly.

"Hi, Austin," Don said. "This is Don Ferry on Bebe's phone. Bebe's here with me, too."

"Hi, Austin," John said in as friendly a voice as he could.

"Well, well," the reporter said, sure that he was on to something, now. If Don Ferry was involved, then something was definitely up. "The gang's all here, I guess. Are we circling the wagons, or what?"

Don laughed convivially. "What? No, no. Bebe is at my place for a cookout and and she got your message. I'm just acting as her guardian, for the time being. You know, with Ed and Rose back east for the summer, I'm just being a protective dad."

"Yeah, sure," Meadows snickered. "Ok, this is why I contacted her - I got a tip that little Miss Bebe is having a pretty shocking surgery at the end of August. I'm sure my audience would be very interested in this."

Don held up his hand to keep John for responding. He could see his TV daughter' s temper rise. "Shocking!?" Don sounded dismissive. "I don't think there's anything shocking about it, Austin. Just corrective surgery for a congenital condition that she's been dealing with for most of her life. Nothing too interesting, and, of course, she is only fifteen years old, Austin. We'd really rather that her privacy was respected during her surgery and recovery."

"Yeah, Yeah, Yeah," the reporter laughed through the speaker. "'Congenital condition' my left nut. You and I both know that this is something very different than that and, as for her privacy, DON," he stressed the actor's name to indicate that, despite Don's manner, he and Meadows were not friends, "if she wanted privacy, she got into the wrong business. So, do I get the scoop from her, or do I just move forward with what I have?"

"Mr Meadows," John was feeling panicked and trapped, "I really am..."

Don interrupted. "Look, Austin, you and Bebe have had a great relationship up to this point and we certainly don't want to mess that up, so how about this? I'll arrange for you to meet with me, Bebe and her doctor and you can have all the facts of the case. How does that sound?"

Both John and Oscar were staring at Don in disbelief and tried to wave him off.

"Sounds good," Meadows said, they could almost hear him salivating through the phone. "When and where?"

"Tell you what - I'll call Bebe's doctor and see when he's available. I'll have Bebe send you a text when I know his availability. Is that ok?"

"It's ok as long as we meet tomorrow or the next day. I'm not waiting any longer than that."

"Understood." Don had a casual smile in his voice. "I'll text ASAP. Take it easy, Austin." He disconnected the call.

"Well," Oscar shook his head, "it looks like the world is going to find out about everything in a couple of days."

"Don?" John asked. "How could you have done that?"

Don shrugged. "I just bought us some time. I'll call your doctor and we'll figure all of this out. We'll give him something, but not the truth."

"A congenital health issue?" John slapped his hands into his lap. "What do we tell him, now."

"Well," Don said, "that part's not a lie. Let me talk to Dr. Shapiro and Dr. Martinez, he's your surgeon. Relax, Bebe. We'll work this out."
 

~^~
 

"Isn't there someway that you could just tell this guy to piss off and mind his own business?" MK asked. They were all sitting in the glassedin enclosure around Blaine's pool eating ice cream and enjoying the breezes coming through the patio doors that lined the bottom of the two story high sunroom.

"I guess not," John shrugged. He was uncharacteristically nervous about this whole situation. "I don't know," he thought out loud, "it probably wouldn't be the worst thing that could happen if I HAD to tell everyone. It's just... personal, you know? I mean, I know that I'm on a popular TV show and all, but I didn't even want to talk about all this stuff with you guys. I certainly don't want to go on to James Corden or Jimmy Fallon and tell the whole world about my messed up genitals. I mean, how much more personal can you get?"

"I say ignore them," Blaine offered. "If you don't reply, then all they have is what someone else is saying and they can't report that without evidence, right?"

"Blaine," Ella stirred her chocolate ice cream into a soup as she worried along with her friends, "TMZ is known for saying whatever they want to say, no matter who it hurts. They don't care if it's true or not or who it hurts. They're scumbags."

"Great, So they get to make all the decisions that will affect Bebe's life?" Blaine put his arm around John's shoulders. "That's ridiculous."

"Not Just Bebe's life," MK corrected, "all of ours. I mean, it's not a big deal for Ella and me, but you'll have to deal with a bunch of testosterone-fueled morons at school who are going to make a big deal out of the fact that you've been dating a girl with a dick for the last ten months."

"MK," Ella shook her head, "could you PLEASE try to have some manners? Call it penis if that's what you're talking about, but don't call it that."

"Oh, Sorry," MK said, surprised that she'd caused any upset.

"Oh, what difference does it make what she calls it?" John was getting frustrated with the whole conversation. "I'll be the punch line on every late night talk show and every comedy special for the rest of my life."

"That's not true..." Ella tried to calm him down.

"Oh, Yeah!?" John was getting heated, now. "What about Caitlyn Jenner, Huh? Have they ever let up on her? No! It's been years since she came out and they still make jokes about her. I'm on the top rated show in the country, right now. They'll tear me and it apart. It's all over, just because I was stupid enough to think I could have this stupid operation!! I just... Oh, damnit, I'm going to put like a hundred and fifty people out of work on the show, they're going to fire me from the movie...it's all over, anyway. I'll have to move back home and focus on something else to study in college. Geez... I'm really going to miss you guys."

Now, John's tears flowed freely.

"You're not going anywhere," Blaine assured him. "You're staying here, with me."

"Yeah," John sobbed. "I doubt you'll want me around when the talk shows all want to talk to you about the little faggot who fooled you into thinking he was girl. You'll be better off without me. You'll all be better off without me. I never should have done this. I should have just stayed at home, been a nobody and I never, EVER should have tried to be happy."

Before they could stop him, John was up and running from the pool enclosure into the house. He grabbed his clothes bag as he passed it and headed towards the door, figuring he could just start for home and have Oscar pick him up. He just needed to leave. He'd messed up everything so badly for everyone. He'd always known that he would do it, too. God, he was such a screw up.

"Bebe!" Joanne wasn't looking for John or anyone else as she was passing from the kitchen into the hallway, but when John ran directly into her, she grabbed a hold of him to keep either of them from falling. "Bebe! Calm down! What's the matter?"

Of course she knew what the matter was, but when she'd left ice cream with the kids by the pool, everything had seemed fine.

"It's all over, mom," John wailed. "The show, my career, the movie, my life, it's all over. I let everyone down and now everyone's going to hate me for it."

"Oh, baby, no," Joanne hugged him tightly, his face buried in her bosom. "Don will figure something out, I'm sure of it. He's been in this business a long time, Angel. He'll know what to do."

Blaine and the girls had arrived while Joanne spoke. "It will be ok, Beebs," Ella patted his shoulder. "You'll see."

"Yeah," MK patted his other arm. "Like they say, what doesn't kill us makes us stronger."

"I don't want to leave, mom," John whispered into Joanne's chest.

"You're not going anywhere, little girl. You're staying right here with Blaine and MK and Ella and me. This is not going to beat you. Do you hear me?"

"I hear you, mom, but I don't know how it can possibly be worked out. If I lose my job then I'll have to move home and no one will ever hire me again after a scandal like this."

"Oh, Bull," Joanne scoffed.

"Bebe," Blaine interrupted. "You left your phone and I grabbed it. It's ringing. It's Don."

He held it out and John took it from him, pushed the answer button and leaned his head to the right so he could fit the phone between his hair and his ear. "Hi, Don."

"Hi, sweetheart. How you holding up?"

"Not very well, to be honest."

"Well, cheer up, my dear, because I think we have this all worked out. Oscar is picking you up at Blaine's house in an hour. Wear a pretty dress, do your makeup, brush your hair and don't look upset. We're going to push Mr Meadows back on his heals, ok?"

"An hour!? Don, I need more time..."

"Can't have it, baby. The longer we procrastinate, the more it seems like we're trying to hide something. We're meeting Meadows and your surgeon at Blacksmith's Restaurant At 7:00. Ready or not, sweetheart, here we go!"

"But... Don... what are we telling him?"

"It's better that you don't know until the surgeon tells Meadows. It's better that way."

"Ok..."

"One hour, baby. Get your butt in gear."

"Ok... oh, Don!"

"Yes, honey?"

"Um... can I bring Joanne with me? I'd feel better if she was there."

"Of course, honey. See you there." He disconnected the call.

"It's this it?" Joanne asked. "The moment of truth?"

John nodded, frightened beyond reason. "Yeah. Will you come with me? We're going to a restaurant called 'Blacksmith's.'"

"Of course, I will. Holy cow, Blacksmith's is very fancy. Blaine, take the girls, my car and my credit card. Run down to the boutique on Canyon. Girls, get Bebe something to wear, but be quick. I want you back here in a half hour with a dress and shoes."

"Ok," Blaine said. "Come on, guys. Let's go."

"Half an hour?" MK grabbed her purse. "Is it even possible to pick out a dress in half an hour?"

"It'll have to be," Ella shrugged, "but it won't be any fun."

"Something that Bebe would wear, girls!" Joanne called after them. "And don't bring her those stilts that you wear for shoes! Something reasonable with a low or medium heal! AND BE QUICK!!"

Then she turned to John. "Ok, you use the shower in the guest room. I'll use mine. Be quick, but wash your hair. I'll help you dry it when you get out. Now, hurry."

She pushed him towards the stairway, but he stopped at the bottom step. "Mom... if things don't go well... I just want to say 'thank you...'"

"Everything's going to go perfectly, Bebe. Now," she slapped his rear end rather hard, "move that pretty little ass of yours. The clock is ticking!"
 

~^~
 

They pulled up in front of Blacksmith's Restaurant on Winston Street at 6:57. The brick front of the building and the somewhat dilapidated condition of the neighborhood worried John as Don stepped up to open his door and help him out of the town car.

"This is it?" John asked as he looked around.

Don laughed. "Just wait till you get inside. I was afraid that you wouldn't have time to get dressed up, but, wow, sweetheart, you look amazing!"

He really did, too. The girls had gotten John a pale blue dress, well, gown was more like it. It was in the fit-and-flare style that he enjoyed, but the top was a halter top that left his back and arms fully exposed and the plummeting neckline would have been embarrassing to wear had his feminine assets been more developed than they were. The skirt of the dress did flare out, but in diaphanous layers of chiffon that came to his ankles and barely exposed the silver, two inch heeled sandals that he wore beneath.

As always, the small silver ball that Blaine had given him hung from his neck and two, round, matching silver studs adorned his ears. He truly did look like a movie star, as did Don in his five thousand dollar suit, but the neighborhood did not seem to warrant this kind of clothing.

When Oscar helped Joanne from the other side of the car, she was dressed beautifully in a simple little-black-dress with gold jewelry. "I've never been here before," she said as she surveyed the very unassuming face of the restaurant. "Have you, Oscar?"

"Many times, ma'am, but I've only ever seen it from the outside. I understand it's quite beautiful inside.

"Joanne!" Don took her hand as she came around the car. "You look lovely, as always."

He thanked Oscar and was about to lead them into the restaurant when he spotted a car pulling up and he recognized the face of Dr Jorge Martinez in the passenger seat. "Hang on," he told John and Joanne. They waited for the car to stop and the very distinguished, forty-something year old man to exit the vehicle carrying a leather bound portfolio style briefcase. They exchanged a few words before he looked past Don to see Joanne and John.

"Jorge, this is Joanne and Bebe. Bebe, this is Doctor Jorge Martinez, a leader in sex reassignment surgery as well as a noted gynecological surgeon. He will be performing your surgery. You have an appointment with him next Thursday, by the way."

The doctor shook both their hands, kissed each of their cheeks and gave them both a very reassuring smile. His mocha colored skin, chiseled face and salt and pepper hair gave him the appearance of a movie star, himself. "So nice to meet you, Bebe. I am sorry that it has to be under these circumstances, though."

He looked to Don. "Has the reporter arrived? I only have about an hour and a half. My husband is not thrilled that I made him take me here before we fly to Vegas for the weekend for his class reunion."

"I am sorry, Jorge." Don looked to where the doctor's husband had pulled into a parking lot. "Would he like to join us?"

"Oh, no, thank you. He's aware of the reason for the detour, and I already invited him to sit with us, but he says that he'd rather have a drink at the bar and watch from a distance. He's finding the whole thing rather fascinating and amusing."

"Amusing?" John thought that was an odd choice of words.

"Just the stupidity of it, Bebe, I assure you. We understand how important this is to you and, I promise you, everything will be fine."

Joanne rubbed John's back.

Don checked his phone, "Well, to answer your question, Meadows is inside and waiting impatiently. He says that he can see us through the windows. Let's go in."

When they entered, the amazing opulence of the restaurant shocked John. From the humble neighborhood outside, they entered into a room fit for a Czar. High ceilings and crystal chandeliers with men and women dressed in expensive, elegant clothing. It was breathtaking.

Don spoke to the maitre'd who guided them to a table to the side of the main room. There were restaurant patrons sitting nearby, causing John to wonder why they'd chosen this location for a meeting, but Don seemed to know what he was doing.

Both Don and John were stopped several times on the way to the table. Happy and gracious fans asked for autographs or selfies and they happily obliged, while Austin Meadows fumed at being kept waiting.

When they finally arrived at the table, Don made the introductions and they all sat and waited until their drinks order was taken. Finally, Don broke the ice. "Well, Austin, we understand that you've heard about Bebe's upcoming surgery and we're here to be completely honest with you in the hopes that you will understand how personal and frightening something like this can be to a child of fifteen. I mean, it'll change her whole life, her future - everything - and we hope that, in consideration of how much access Bebe has offered you to 'Civil Disobedience' and her own life, that you'll show some respect, some restraint and some decorum for our little girl's situation."

"Yeah," Meadows shook his head. "Look, Ferry, if you're making Mooney in the public eye, then your life is public domain. Now, I appreciate all the access that I've been given to your show, but this is too big to not talk about. I'm sorry, Bebe, but this is huge. This is how I make my living - reporting on the challenges that celebrities face, and, let's face it, Bebe had everyone fooled."

"Well, that is true, Mr Meadows." Dr Martinez crossed his legs and took on a very professional demeanor. "Over the last few months, as Bianca's condition developed and worsened, she found herself in nearly constant pain and when she was menstruating, that pain was amplified to the point that, when she was not on set, she was spending most of her time in bed with a heating pad on her lower abdominal region. This procedure, although extreme, will provide her the relief she deserves."

Confused, John glanced to Joanne who, like him, was pretending that this was all old news. She surreptitiously winked at him and they both continued to listen and wait.

"After the tests that we've run so far, we are fairly confident that this procedure can be done laparoscopically without leaving any scars and keeping Bianca's recovery time to a minimum..."

"Wait, Wait, Wait, Wait," Meadows held up his hand and gave a dismissive chuckle. "I don't know what you're getting at, doc, but I know what's really going on. Little Bianca here is getting sex reassignment surgery and I want to have the whole story, including pictures from the hospital room - the operating room, if possible."

Don and Dr Martinez exchanged well practiced, confused looks. Don glanced at John, then back at Meadows. "Austin," he spoke quietly, but he seemed extremely sincere, "did someone tell you that Bebe would be transitioning to being a boy?"

Meadows made an incredulous face and shook his head. "No. Obviously, she, well - he, is getting surgery to transition to become a woman, well, a girl. So stop the bullshit and let's get down to the truth, ok?"

Don pointed to John in his gorgeous, pale blue evening dress, makeup perfectly applied, small, but developing breasts presented in a lovely manner beneath the flowing material and smirked as his gaze returned to Meadows. "You think that's a boy?" He asked it flatly and with disbelief evident in his tone.

"Yeah, I do," Meadows replied, a little less confident, now.

"Mr Meadows," the doctor opened the portfolio case and presented a very well documented case study of, apparently, Bebe Foley's illness. "I don't know where you heard that story, but the truth is much more shocking. This seemingly healthy, fifteen year old girl is about to undergo a radical hysterectomy due to an abundance of uterine fibroids, benign tumors, that have devastated her internal, female organs. It's not an uncommon condition in women in their thirties or older, but nearly unheard of in a child of this age. This procedure will remove her uterus and ovaries. Do you understand what that means, Mr Meadows? Just as she is about to enter womanhood, Bebe will lose the ability to procreate. She will never mother a child, Mr Meadows. This is a devastating situation for any woman, but imagine how difficult it is for a teenager. That is why we are hoping for your discretion when dealing with this matter."

John realized that Joanne had taken his hand and that both of them had watery eyes. Neither was acting. Neither was pretending. They were both just caught up in the situation being presented.

When Meadows glanced in their direction and saw the older woman clutching Bebe's hand and the look of concern on her face, his confidence in his story faded even more. Had he been given a bad lead?

"You probably aren't aware of this, Mr Meadows," Don spoke now, "but Bebe was hospitalized several months ago due to massive bleeding. She nearly died."

"Yeah," Meadows checked his notes. "Yeah, I have that. It says that was caused by ulcers, though."

Both Don and Jorge nodded at that. "That's what the official report stated, yes," the Doctor agreed, "but that was really just for the production company's insurance binder. A health issue of this magnitude would have shut down production and cost a fortune. Here is my actual report of the event."

He shuffled some papers and showed Meadows a medical record that indicated John's previous hospital was due, according to the records, to gynecological issues. Everything was dated and stamped and official.

"This is a very serious matter, Austin," Don said, his voice awash with friendship and paternal concern. "I mean, if I have a problem with my plumbing at my age, it's kind of a normal thing and if it gets on TMZ I'll just be the butt of a few jokes, but Bebe's still young, a child really, Austin. Please, be as discrete as possible. This is a frustrating, embarrassing and, ultimately, tragic issue for a child who has shown incredible bravery since she arrived."

Meadows was examining all of the medical records. Each was stamped and dated. It seemed as if he'd paid five hundred dollars for a bad lead. Goddamnit! Regardless, he looked at Don with disdain. "Courage? Seriously, courage? She isn't a political refugee, Ferry, she moved out here to be very well paid on a TV series. 'Courage' doesn't really come into it."

"Of course, Austin, you're correct. I mean, what were you doing at fourteen years old? Playing baseball? Basketball? Soccer? Riding a bike?"

"Your point?"

"My point is that while most kids, like you and me, were just being kids at fourteen, Bebe was in a Shakespearean production directed by a world renown director and she did so well in that play that she got onto a TV show. That meant leaving her home, her mother, her friends - everything she knew - and moving to a strange city, a new school and she took on the pressures of a job that most adults find grueling."

Meadows glanced at John and considered what had been said.

"And you know what, Meadows?" Don reached across the table and took John's free hand in his. "If 'Civil Disobedience' was just my show, it probably would still be a minor hit, but because of the power of Bebe's talent and her determination on the set, it's the number one show in the world right now. If that could be done by anyone, then you and your slimy company wouldn't give a crap about her, but it's her hard work and, yes, COURAGE, that makes that show brilliant. Now that fate has thrown her a bad pitch, try to go easy on her and remember that Bebe is the only person in this city who has ever been nice to you."

Meadows put down the file and chuckled at Don Ferry's 'slimy company' jibe, but even he would have to admit, there was some truth to it. And Bebe had been more friendly to him than most other celebrities. Still... he needed to prod. That was his nature.

He looked at Bebe and Joanne for a moment, then to Don. "And who's this holding her hand? It's not her mother, I know what she looks like. Is this some actress you hired to play the concerned mommy?"

Joanne let go of John's hand and leaned across the table offering her hand to Meadows. "My name is Joanne Larkin, Mr Meadows. My son and Bebe have been dating. I believe you've met him when you interrupted a few of their dates."

Meadows looked at the proffered hand, but did not shake it. "And you're here... why? As a prop?"

"No. I'm here because a child I care a great deal for is being harassed by a piece of shit and she was afraid to come without me."

John was shocked at Joanne's language. She was always so prim and proper. Well, that is until the incident with the costumers.

"Alright. Alright," Don held up his hands to calm things down, but even he was amused by Joanne's ferocity. "We're all friends here, right?"

"If I may return to the matter at hand, Mr Meadows," the doctor interrupted. "Here are the facts:

Bianca is a very sick young woman and I am her surgeon.
Her illness does not invoke sex reassignment surgery.
Her privacy and dignity are important to us.
What else needs to be discussed?"

"This," Meadows held up his phone on which there was a photo of a piece of paper with lots of scattered notes written on it including the words 'Bianca Foley - SRS. August 24.' "Care to explain, Doctor?"

Jorge smiled. "That's a piece of paper from my notebook, Mr Meadows. Not a hospital record." Dr Martinez looked at the paper on the screen, then pointed to some of his notes in the paperwork he'd handed Meadows. "What does that say, right there, Mr Meadows?"

Meadows looked at the page and muttered as he read, "'Severe Reaction to Sedatives.' Are you saying that's what 'SRS' means in your notes? You're kidding, right? I mean, 'SRS' means 'Sex Reassignment Surgery.' Everyone knows that."

"No, Mr Meadows. In medical terms, it can mean 'Sex Reassignment Surgery,' it can also be a procedure called 'Static Radiosurgery,' or 'Silver-Roberts Syndrome,' which is a growth disorder, or even 'Slow Reacting Substance,' however, when I take notes on a new patient, you will frequently find the notations 'NRS' or 'SRS' next to the patient's name. It is important that my team knows how a patient will respond to sedatives, Mr Meadows. 'NRS' means 'No Reaction to Sedatives,' and 'SRS' means 'Severe Reaction to Sedatives.' Nothing more and nothing less."

"This is all bull shit," Meadows mumbled as he stood, but then he thought better of storming out of the restaurant and ruining his relationship with the young star at the table.

Instead, he extended his hand to her and said, "Bebe, I'm sorry that I wasted your time. I won't report anything more than a hospital stay unless you want to come forward with more information."

John shook his hand and said the first words he'd said since they entered the posh restaurant. "Thank you, Mr Meadows. I really appreciate it."

He nodded to Joanne. "Nice to meet you, Mrs Larkin." Then he turned and nodded to Jorge and Don. "Ferry. Doctor Martinez. Thanks for the meeting." He turned and left without making a scene.

"So," Don said when he was sure that Meadows wasn't returning, "the tip came from the clinic."

"That is concerning," Jorge said. "We treat a lot of celebrities for things that they'd like to keep private. We're going to need to fine our informant."

Don gave Joanne a concerned look, which John saw.

"It wasn't Nancy," John muttered, his head bowed a bit, his eyes fixed on the flowing material of the skirt of his dress.

"Bebe," Joanne touched his arm, "we never suggested..."

"But you thought it," John was fighting back tears, but he lost the battle and one flowed down his cheek. "You all did. And I did, too and I hate that I did. It wasn't her."

"Beebs," Don started to say, but John shook his head and looked away.

"It wasn't her, Don. End of story. I love her and she loves me and it didn't happen that way. Please... don't ever even ask her if she did it."

Don and Joanne looked at each other wondering how to proceed.

"Bebe," Joanne tried, "we won't just go up and ask her anything, but we need to rule her out..."

"Why? Because she's a recovering addict? I know what your thinking. I'm not stupid. But she did not do this, mom. I don't need to ask her because I already know the answer. She didn't do it. Ok?"

"Ok," Don shrugged.

"Who is Nancy, besides being Bebe's sister?" Dr Martinez asked.

"She's doing her residency at your clinic," Don explained. "She had a drug issue back in Massachusetts, but Bebe used her newfound money to get her into rehab and her newfound influence to get her a job at your clinic."

"Wow!" Jorge was truly impressed. "You're a one in a million, Bianca. I'm looking forward to getting to know you."

John didn't respond. He just kept looking at the skirt of his dress and he watched the fine material move in the breeze created by the air conditioner.

"Do you mind if my husband joins us?" Dr Martinez asked, looking at his phone.

"No, no," Don said. "Can I buy you dinner, or at least a drink?"

Before he could answer a tall, slender, handsome man with striking red hair and beard appeared at the table. He too, wore an expensive suit and looked like he belonged in Blacksmith's palatial environment.

Jorge stood and said, "Everyone, this is my husband, Ben. Ben this is Joanne, Don and, of course, Bebe."

"Hi, everyone," the man said, as he leaned to shake hands with Joanne and Don. John was obviously distraught, so the man just said, "Bebe - I'm a big fan." Then, a bit self-consciously, he said, "Oh, and Don, too. I mean, I'm a big fan of yours, too, but... never mind - I have something to tell you."

Ben took the chair that Meadows had been sitting in and leaned in so he could lower his voice. "Listen. I stepped out as I saw that reporter headed for the door and I was waiting near the valet station while they got his car. I pretended to be on hold on my phone and listened while he was on his. And he was mad as a hornet."

"What did he say?" Jorge asked.

"Well, first he was yelling about the person on the other end of the call being an asshole and giving him bad information. That continued for a while and he told the person that he owed him, big time. That this was an embarrassing mess, etc, but then there was an issue with his credit card at the valet station, so he told the person on the phone to hold on while he talked to the valet. He put his phone down so he could pull out his wallet and, I got a look at the contact name."

Both Don and Jorge looked up in shocked surprise. "You're kidding?" Jorge asked.

"Hey, I wouldn't kid about this."

"What's the name?" Don couldn't believe they could be this lucky.

Joanne looked at John, though and she could see fear written all over his face. He knew that it wasn't Nancy. It couldn't be Nancy. It absolutely wasn't Nancy and he knew that, but a small part of him was still petrified that it was.

"It'll be ok, Bebe," Joanne whispered as she put her arm around him.

"The name was 'Crawford.' 'James Crawford,'" Ben said.

"Does that ring a bell with you, Don?" Jorge asked.

"Not with me," he answered. "Bebe?"

He looked to John and was surprised to see he was crying. "Bebe?"

"She'll be fine," Joanne explained, quietly. "She's just relieved."

When Don looked back to Jorge, he had out his phone and was holding up a finger. "Hi, Jan," he said into the phone. "This is Dr Martinez. You know Jimmy, the new maintenance guy? Yeah. What's his full name?" He waited. "Great. Thanks, Jan."

"Well," he said to everyone at table, "it came from our new maintenance guy. What a creep. I'll see that he's fired immediately."

"So, it was just for money, then," Don said. "At least we know it wasn't a vendetta against Bebe. You don't know that name do you, Joanne?"

"No," Joanne confirmed. "Bebe, you never heard of him did you?"

John wiped the mascara from his cheek. "I'm sorry. I just..." he sniffles and got control of himself. "I only heard that it wasn't Nancy. What was the name?"

"James Crawford," Don repeated the name and John went white.

"I do know him. He used to be a coach at my school. Uncle Ed was arrested for defending both me and himself when Mr Crawford attacked us dressed as a policeman. He worked with Ms Stephanie to try to blackmail us."

Don sat back in his chair, shook his head and said, "Great. Here we go again. Jorge, don't have him fired, just yet. I'll call Hank Miller and have him look into this creep, again, and find out what's going on before we do anything else. Why isn't that son of a bitch in jail?"
 

~^~
 

The flight hadn't been bad, the traffic hadn't been bad and the house on the beach in Falmouth was everything they'd hoped it would be. The private road and private drive lead to the huge, grey and white, gambrel roofed house with six gables and a wrap-around farmer's porch, an exterior kitchen, a hot tub and several reclining deck chairs and in two of those chairs is where Ed and Rose found themselves at the end of their first day as home owners on Cape Cod.

"I could get used to this." Rose sipped her glass of celebratory champagne. "What a view." She held up her glass towards the beach front of their property and said, "Here's to you, Old Cape Cod! It's good to be back!" Then she sipped from her champagne-flute and looked to her right where Ed was smiling at her. "I love you, Mr McNeal."

Ed smiled and clinked his glass against Rose's. "I love you, too, Rosie. Congratulations on your first day as a home owner."

They looked around in disbelief that they'd actually bought this piece of heaven. Then, as the quiet set in, Rose said, "You know what's really funny?"

Ed smiled. "Yeah. You miss her."

"I do. I mean I thought that it would be great to not have to be a 'mom' for the summer, but I gotta tell you, I'm really having some separation anxiety right now. She'll be ok, right?"

Ed squeezed her hand. "She'll be great and if she has any problem at all, she knows to call us."
 
 
To Be Continued...