A Question to You the Readers

So, as season 1 of Fashion Victims winds down (we are only a few weeks away), I am getting ready to start working on Raw and The Gathering Storm.

Here is my question to you guys. Well, more like questions. I would love it if you would email your answers to me at rstringini@gmail.com

The first question is, are you interested in even seeing a second season of Fashion Victims? Should I just wrap things up with Raw and move on to something else? If a second season happens, what kind of stuff would you like to see? Plots? Characters? What would you like to see happen with the characters that make it through season 1?

My second question is about the format. Would you guys rather I keep up with five smaller posts a week, or switch to two larger posts? This applies to all the series, present and future. I'm still working out the kinks, and am willing to try new things.

Finally, what kind of series would you like to see? What kind of stories would you be interested in? Obviously this isn't me asking you for full story ideas (I can't use them. Copyright issues and all), but like, generally, what kind of stuff are you interested in?

So, please, write me, let me know. I want to make this work, and I really want your imput. Thats the joy of doing this on a blog.

Thank you guys for reading, and I hope to hear from you.

Fashion Victims Ep. 1.46

Barbi sat at the bar in the Blacklight, sipping a club soda and cranberry. Even now she couldn't bring herself to drink again. She sipped the drink slowly, letting the booming, high pitch of Nikka Costa's voice drown out her never ending stream of thought.

"You're Barbi Starr." The voice was male, smooth, deep with a touch of Chicago twang.

She glanced to her right, and found herself staring into the dark black eyes of one of the most beautiful men she had ever seen. He was tall, with a broad chest and shoulders. He had coffee colored skin with the slightest hint of cream. He ran his hand over his smooth, bald head and smiled.

"I'm aware of that." She tried not to seem interested. "So, who the hell are you?"

"Mitchell." He held out his hand.

His hand shake was firm, but not over powering.

"Well Mitchell, how can I help you?" She turned towards him, leaning her head on her hand.

"I'm a fan. I just wanted to talk." He took a seat next to her. He made sure to brush his thigh against her as he adjusted onto the small bar stool.

She smiled. She couldn't help it. He was nice. She hadn't been around nice for a while. The fashion industry wasn't known for nice. Back-stabbing, bitching, snipping and snapping for sure, but not nice.

"How about a dance instead. I'm kind of sick of talking." She stood, putting her drink on the bar.

She didn't wait for an answer. Instead she walked into the crowd of people thrashing on the dance floor, and she was glad to see Mitchell following her. Suddenly he was pressed against her, his hands tracing her stomach, then her hips, then her thighs.

She couldn't help it. She melted against his touch. He enveloped her, puling her close, their bodies swaying. It wasn't the normal club grinding. This was something else, something more personal. He wanted her, and from what she was feeling, he wanted her bad.

The only thing she was wondering was why. She knew she was still attractive, but Mitchell couldn't have been older than twenty five, and there he was going after one of the oldest women in the club. He could have his pick of any half naked, totally drunk club girls whipping around the floor, rubbing their store bought bodies against anyone they found attractive.

Mitchell had chosen her. That felt good, especially after the disaster that was her marriage finally up and died on her.

It didn't take long for them to move from the dance floor to a taxi, and then into her bed. She hadn't realized how much she needed that moment. That total and complete release that only one hot, steamy night could give a person.

When she finally fell asleep, Mitchell's thick, muscular arms wrapped around her, she found herself slipping into the first good dream in a long while.

Fashion Victims Ep. 1.45

Rick sat in his office, the results from Barbi's blood tests in front of him.

"So?" Barbi leaned forward. "Was I drugged?"

"Well, they can't say for sure, but there are traces of something. It's to small to really pin-point it, but obviously you were given something." Rick handed Barbi the paper.

He was shocked that they sat there, talking so comfortably. The last time they had done this was the day after Eve was murdered. Those moments were so few and far between, but Rick had to admit that he was starting to enjoy it.

"So I didn't do anything." She sighed, closing her eyes and sitting back. "Do you know how good it is to hear that?"

"I can guess." He laughed.

The moment of levity didn't last long though. There was still a murderer out there, and no one was safe. So Barbi wasn't the killer, but that ment someone else was, and that ment the police had to start from square one. So while it was good news for Barbi, it was bad news for everyone else.

An officer entered the office and dropped a file onto Rick's death. When Rick picked it up he realized just how bad it was.

"What is it?" Barbi watched the officer leave, obviously not use to being out of the information loop.

Rick flipped open the file, and the first thing he saw was a young black woman, her body leaning against the wall of a toilet stall, her head split open, a bloody axe lying by her leg.

It was Jade.

He didn't have a chance to protest. Barbi grabbed the file out of his hands. He watched as her face turned pitch white, and she collapsed back into her chair.

"I didn't do this." Her voice was hoarse, weak. She was terrified. "You know I didn't do this."

"I know." He rubbed his eyes. He could feel the headache coming on. "But someone wants you to think you did. Who could have drugged you Barbi? Gio?"

"No, he wasn't there the first time." She closed the file, pushing it away from her as if it was coated in the black plague.

"Then who?" He leaned forward. He needed something, some kind of lead.

"Layla... Kurt... Derrick has a key." She sighed. "This is far from over, isn't it."

"Oh yeah." Even though he knew it was against the rules, Rick pulled a cigarette out of his pocket and lit up. The fine was worth it.

A little extra today!

So, I'm posting two episodes today since Memorial Day kind of threw off my schedule. I actually had planned to post on Memorial Day and completely forgot. So! Enjoy!

Fashion Victims Episodes 1.43 and 1.44

Derrick sat in Jackson's bed, his knees pulled to his chest. He wasn't sure how he was supposed to deal with this. It wasn't every day that he woke up next to one of the most handsome men in America.

The sound of the shower running was a constant reminder that he had done something that he couldn't just let go.

"Jackson." Derrick yelled over the sound of the shower. "I'm going to get going."

Derrick grabbed his clothes off the floor. Why was this hitting him so hard? It should just be like any other one night stand. So it was with a man? It happened. He was drunk, Jackson was drunk, and stuff happened. It was a tale as old as time.

The shower turned off, and Jackson peaked his head out of the bathroom, steam billowing behind him. His hair was wet, slicked back. His skin shimmered in the sunlight that peaked through the closed blinds.

"I'll see you later." Jackson smiled.

"Why?" Derrick was hoping he hadn't made promises last night. He wanted to get out of that apartment, and block this whole ordeal from his mind.

"The photo shoot." Jackson stepped out of the bathroom, a towel around his waist. He leaned against the doorframe. Even in his natural state he was a born model.

"Right." Derrick grabbed his stuff. "Right, the photo shoot. I'll see you there." He was attempting to put his shirt on and pull his pants up at the same time when he felt the strong, firm hand on his arm.

A shiver went down his spine. It wasn't the bad kind of shiver though. It wasn't the kind he was hoping for. It was that shiver of anticipation.

It was all to much.

"Calm down." Jackson's voice was calm, smooth. "You're not gay. You were just drunk."

"I know that." Derrick pulled away, tripping on the pants around his knees. He landed hard on his ass. "Damn it!"

"You're a wreck." Jackson laughed, extending his hand, helping Derrick to his feet. "You need some coffee."

"I need to get out of here." Derrick began buttoning his shirt, his eyes refusing to look at Jackson.

"That wasn't a recommendation, that was an order." Jackson walked past Derrick, out of the bedroom and into the kitchen.

Derrick leaned against the wall, his heart beating, his head swimming. He could hear the coffee pot bubbling.

Maybe coffee would help.

Derrick finished getting dressed, and sat at the kitchen table. "Do you do this often?"

"What? Confuse straight men? Sometimes. They usually find me though." Jackson looked up, smiling.

"I have to ask... why did you get married?" Derrick rubbed his forehead. The hang over was starting to set in.

"I loved her. I mean, not romanticaly, not sexually, but it was enough." Jackson grabbed a mug, pouring Derrick a cup of coffee. He handed it to Derrick, their fingers brushing briefly. "And yes, I slept with her. We have a daughter."

Jackson motioned to a picture above the fireplace. The girl was tall, with shoulder length black, red hair, and a build that most girls would kill for.

Hearing all of this didn't help Derrick. It just made him that much more confused. If Jackson could fake it, then maybe he had been faking it this entire time.

*****

Annabelle was already out the door when Layla finally caught up with her. She had done it again. She had ended up in bed with Layla, and that was something she couldn't do anymore. Not after the video. The humilation was to much for her to handle. The way people looked at her now was almost physically painful.

"Stop. Annabelle, just hold on." Layla was running behind her, clutching at her blue silk robe, trying to keep it closed.

"This was a mistake. This whole thing was a mistake." She jammed the elevator button, and suddenly was praying for stairs. Sadly, the only stairwell was an emergency exit, and she didn't feel like setting off alarms. Just what she needed, more attention.

"Why are you freaking out?" Layla kept her distance.

"Why do you think? I'm the laughing stock of the fashion world. Hell, I'm the laughing stock of the world!" Annabelle was shocked that she was screaming. She hardly ever raised her voice, let alone screamed.

"You're not the laughing stock. It's not that big of a deal." Layla was finally able to catch her breath. She brushed her hair out of her eyes, trying to seem composed.

Annabelle leaned her head against the cold metal of the elevator door. It was helping her sudden headache. She could feel her heart racing. She had to get out, and she had to get out now. If she didn't now, then she knew Layla would be able to talk her back into the apartment, and then back into...

"My parents saw it." Annabelle couldn't even look Layla in the eye as she spoke. "Do you get that? My dad saw a video of me making out with, having... He saw us Layla."

"I'm sorry." Layla was getting a little closer.

Annabelle pulled away when she felt Layla's hand on her shoulder.

"This needs to be professional. That's all." The door opened, and Annabelle stepped inside.

As the doors closed she could see the way Layla's face tightened, the tears spilling down her cheeks.

She couldn't even have something like this. She couldn't have a private life. That had just been proven to her in the worst way possible. Something she had wanted to be private, personal was suddenly plastered all over the internet for the whole world to see. They had seen her doing something she had been so terrified to do, and she had every right to be apparently. Annabelle walked out onto the street and slipped on an over sized pair of sunglasses, blocking her gaze from the sudden blast of camera flashes.

She could hear the voices yelling at her, asking her about her 'girlfriend'. She tried to block it out, but it was to hard, and she found herself ducking into an alley, hiding herself, her tears, her humilation from the sudden scourge of paparazzi.

She had what she wanted. She was famous, but at what cost?

Fashion Victims Ep. 1.42

Barbi had no idea how she had ended up on the floor, but she was sure that was what she was staring at when she finally came to.

Her head was killing her, and her vision was still blurry. It felt like someone had dropped a house on her.

"What the hell?" Rick was standing in the doorway that led into the living room. He was holding a bag of groceries in one hand.

"I... I don't know what happened." Barbi sat up, but suddenly regretted it, a wave of nausia hitting her hard. She lay back down, her hand clutching her stomaching. She was pretty sure that if she moved again she would vomit.

Rick walked over to her, crouching down, putting his hand on her clammy forehead. She didn't like the look in his eyes. It was that 'there's something wrong' look. She didn't want anything to be wrong. She wanted things to get back to normal. No more stabbings, no more arrests, no more time in a small, cement cell with one tiny, barred window.

"How much did you have to drink?" He carefully helped her up onto the couch.

"Nothing. I haven't had a drink since the murder." She closed her eyes, trying to block out the light. "I had some tea, and then... nothing."

"You're kidding, right?" He began to rub her back slowly. "So, then what happened?"

"How the hell should I know." She looked at him, their eyes meeting. "This isn't the first time."

There was a pause. She could see it in his eyes. He was getting it. The first time she had blacked out was when Eve was murdered.

"You couldn't have done anything last night." He patted her knee. "Gio would have heard you."

"He didn't find me in here, did he." She could feel her chest tightening, and the tears were ready to spill out. "What if I did something? What if someone else is dead?"

Rick just shook his head. Then he stood, leaving the room. When he came back he had one of Barbi's jackets in his hand.

"We're getting you to a doctor." He gently placed the jacket over her shoulders. "I want to make sure you're okay. Who knows what you got slipped."

Barbi just nodded. She was starting to feel a little better, and she would feel a thousand times better when she figured out what the hell was happening to her life.

As they got into the car Barbi suddenly felt releaved. She had someone on her side.

So you want a Soapy Treat

So, I was in my local Fry's Electronics lately, and I was scanning through the international section, and I was pleased to find several spanish telenovelas on DVD. Do I speak spanish? Nope. The great thing is, these series come with English Subtitles. So, me being the curious shopper that I am, picked one up, just to check it out. I mean, why not? It's as much of a soap opera as anything in America, and the DVD set is cheap! I can get the entire series (edited slightly for time) for only fifteen dollars.

So, if you want a soapy treat, and you don't mind doing a little reading while watching, then check out your local video store or Amazon, and give telenovelas a try.

Fashion Victims Ep. 1.41

Jade stood in the empty bathroom at Blacklight. She cherished the brief moment of silence. The sound of the club was only a dull thud in the background.

She was waiting now. That was the only reason she had decided to slum it in this dump. Her boss, her new boss, would be there any minute.

She heard the bathroom door open.

"You're late." She didn't turn, instead deciding to fix her hair. The humidity and heat from the club was causing her hair to frizz.

There was no answer. Just a light giggle.

Jade turned, and was shocked to see a cloak covered figure standing behind her, one hand behind their back. It was the person who had attacked Kurt in the parking garage. The pictures from the security tape had been all over the news. Now that person was standing in front of her.

"Stay the hell away from me." Jade stepped back, her butt colliding with the sink. She was stuck.

"Or what?" The figures voice was a low, raspy whisper.

That was when the figure revealed what they were hiding. There was no knife this time. No, in the figure's right arm was an axe.

Jade ran to one of the stalls, slamming the door shut and locking it. She started to scream. Hopefully someone would hear her, although that dull thud from the club was seeming louder and louder.

Thud!

The blade of the axe broke through the scratched up, green metal door of the stall. There was another hit, the door was starting to break off the hinges. The killer, that's who they were, they were the one who had killed Eve, had attacked Kurt, they were starting to get through the door, and Jade had made a huge mistake. She was stuck.

The door to the stall flew open, and there was the cloaked figure, axe in hand.

Jade let out one more scream, but it was cut short by the blade of the axe landing right between her eyes.

Fashion Victims Ep. 1.40

Jade walked through the crowd at Blacklight, her eyes focused on one target. Annabelle.

The girl look positively destroyed. Her hair was a frizzy mess, her face was devoid of make-up. It pissed Jade off that even in this state of despair the girl looked amazing.

"Where's your girlfriend?" Jade leaned against the bar. She wished she could pull a cigarette out, light up, and pull on the full Bette Davis bitch mode, but the state of Illinois made that impossible. Damn healthy air laws.

"You..." Annabelle's eyes locked on her. Even in the drunken haze they seemed to focus with total hate.

"What? You should be happy." Jade laughed. "You're a celebrity! Sex tapes make careers."

Annabelle didn't speak.

"That security footage made you look absolutely stunning." Jade smirked, then motioned for the bartender. "Martini, dirty and dry."

"You're all smiles now, bitch." Annabelle got in close, so that only Jade could hear her. "You don't screw with a country girl."

"What are you going to do?" Jade took a sip of the martini just placed in front of her. "Sick a cow on me?"

Annabelle knocked the drink out of Jade's hand. The glass smashed on the floor, but the sound of the shattering glass was snuffed out by the sound of the music.

"I'll just get another one." Jade brushed a few drops of the martini off her sleek black dress.

Annabelle raised her arm, ready to strike, when a hand wrapped around her wrist.

"Not here. Not now." Layla spoke softly, carefuly. Her voice was a mixture of a warning and comfort.

"You're going to let your girlfriend fight for you?" Jade laughed, throwing her head back, cackling.

"I'm going to keep her from making a mistake." Layla stepped between the two women. "You'll get yours Jade. You can count on it."

"Was that a threat?" Jade stood up, getting in Layla's face. "Maybe I should give Rick a call."

"More like a warning." Layla smiled, then turned, taking Annabelle out of the club.

Jade watched them leave, a sense of accomplisment sweeping over her. Her plan was starting to work. Pretty soon Layla would be out of the picture, and Dollhouse would be up for the taking.

Peyton Place Part 1 Now on DVD

So, I just have to do a little plug for Peyton Place. The first 31 episodes of the series have been released on DVD recently, and what kind of soap fan would I be if I didn't give some mention to the show?

Peyton Place was the show that cemented ABC as a major network back in 1964. It also made stars out of Mia Farrow, Ryan O'Neal and Barbara Perkins. It was a kind of oddity back in the day. It was a prime time soap opera in the truest sense. It aired two nights a week, Tuesday and Thursday, and ran year round. Hell, that's even an oddity now. The show ran from 1964 to 1969 (over 500 episodes). The series, as did the movie and the book, pushed boundaries in storytelling, featuring storylines that included pre-maritial sex, affairs, children out of wedlock and murder. While it wasn't as shocking as the book or movie (which coverd topics such as incestial rape leading to pregnancy and abortion), it was still an eye brow raiser.

So, is it still watchable today? Yes, my dear readers, it is. I just had to pull myself away from the TV! Sure, the dialogue skirts around talking about anything dirty, but it doesn't matter. The drama is still there, and it is aided by an amazing cast, strong scripts, and a real sense of style.

So, give Peyton Place Part 1 a shot! It's pure soapy goodness in all its black and white glory (and don't tell me you can't watch stuff in black and white.) Part 2 will be released later this summer.

Fashion Victims Ep. 1.39

Derrick found himself at the bar of the Blacklight, his old haunt. A nightclub that somehow managed to survive over the years. The place was turning into a dive, but it's shiny black floor and dirty brick walls were the comfort he needed. The whole place was covered in that purple-blue ultraviolet light that seemed to hide people's faces. No one looked real.

He downed his sixth beer, following it with his fourth shot of whiskey. He was hitting it hard tonight. He had to.

"You look like hell." The deep, smooth voice of Jackson Levi seemed to float over the booming music, right into Derrick's ears.

"I feel like it to." Derrick could hear the slur in his voice. Was he already getting that drunk?

He answered his own question when he turned to look Jackson in the face, and the whole bar began to feel like it was spinning. He nearly fell off his bar stool, but Jackson caught him, setting him up right.

Derrick couldn't help but notice that Jackson held on to him a few moments longer then he had to, and at this point Derrick didn't mind.

"You got dumped, didn't you." Jackson took the seat next to Derrick, motioning for the bartender for a drink.

"A year ago." Derrick couldn't take his eyes off of Jackson. Something about the man, that James Dean cool mixed with the kind of confidence only a man who was happy with his life could have drew Derrick in.

It was an odd feeling ot say the least.

"You're staring at me." Jackson took a sip of the beer that bartender had placed in front of him. "I thought you were straight."

"I am." Derrick averted his gaze. "I just... you're not like the other guys I know."

Jackson looked at him. Derrick could feel Jackson's eyes moving over him, from head to toe.

Derrick couldn't believe the words that came out of his mouth next.

"How about we get out of here?" Derrick placed his hand on Jackson's arm.

"I don't sleep with straight guys." Jackon focused on his beer again.

"I'm trying to pick you up." He leaned in close, making sure to keep his voice steady and clear. "How straight can I be?"

Jackson smiled. That was a good sign.

Derrick had no idea why he was doing this. He had never been attracted to a man before, not like he was Jackson. It was just that need to feel wanted, to have that physical connection to someone.

That was the only reason he ever slept with anyone other than Mia. She was the only one who he really connected to. None of the others, and so Jackson was a man. He was no different than the others, then Annabelle or Eve.

The rest was a blur. Jackson paid the bill, then they were outside in a cab, and that was when Jackson made his first move, kissing him, pressing him against the door of the cab. Pressing their bodies together, and Derrick didn't mind.

Derrick just had to keep ingoring the fact that there was something different this time. Something he hadn't expected to feel. He ignored that, and the fear that went with it.

Glee: The Review

I'm going to start this review by stating something very obvious, Glee is a lot like High School Musical. You have the popular jock embracing his musical side, while possibly sparking a relationship with the nerdy girl. There is singing. There is dancing.

The difference between Glee and High School Musical is that Glee isn't really for the tween set. This show is for people who have survived high school, and are now having to deal with this dreadful thing we call the adult world. Where High School Musical creates this perfect little, clean cut world, Glee creates something a little more... bitter, I guess? Yet, the show has something that keeps it from being just another snarky comedy show. Glee has a heart, a big one, and it has hope. It has hope that even adults still need to search for that dream, that one thing that can make them happy.

The kids of Glee are not happy, well-adjusted teenagers. They have issues, they are mean and at the start of the show, they aren't very happy. Being picked on and harassed is a normal part of life for our little Glee Clubbers. Yet, we watch as they come together, and while they don't always like each other (and can barely tolerate each other most of the time) you see them light up when they finally perform. Glee Club gives these kids hope. Not much, but just enough where they aren't always miserable.

Like I said earlier though, this show really isn't for those who are currently in high school. It's for those who have graduated, moved on and entered the real world. The main eyes of the series are those of the director of the club. He's a great guy whose happy being a Spanish teacher. He's stuck in a miserable marriage with a wife who abuses his kindness, and yet he somehow manages to still smile. Why? He remembers the few times he was happy back in high school. He still holds onto some of that youthful hope and joy. Thats the lesson I guess, that even as adults, as our responsibilities mount and the world seems like one huge dung pile, if you hold onto something, make something for yourself that makes you happy, then you can deal. It isn't about winning or being the best, it's about having some sliver of happiness.

Now, this show isn't all feel good messages and group hugs. Far from it. Glee is from Ryan Murphy, the man who brought us the amazing Popular and the amazingly twisted Nip/Tuck. What Murphy brings to the show is an edge, a dash of non-PC humor, high drama camp (hello Jane Lynch and the Cheerleaders), and a harsh dose of reality. The bullies are mean, the popular girls are nasty and the adults are just as bad. There is snarky, dark humor and even our teenage heroes have a dark, bitterness to them. These kids aren't saints. They're kids. Still, under all of that, under all of the biting humor and the gay and cripple jokes (which some how manage not to leave a sting) there is a heart. Murphy proved he is great at balancing human emotion with soapy drama in both of his previous series (both Popular and Nip/Tuck managed to make me cry at least once, if not more).

So, do I recomend Glee? Of course I do! Come on, in this fast-paced, cruel world I can't help but love a show that leaves me with a smile on my face. Glee has an edge, but it has a soul. It understands that life isn't peaches and cream, but it just tells us that maybe it's okay to let our heads drift into the clouds every once in a while, even as adults. Check it out, and trust me, when the first episode ends, you'll feel better than you did at the start of the show.

When Glee starts back up in the fall I'm planning on doing episode reviews. Until then, I urge you to go over to iTunes and check out the first two singles from the show, and if you can find it, the first episode. You won't be disappointed.

Glee Preview On Fox Tonight

Howdy ya'll! So, tonight is a huge TV night. We got dancing, singing and... the glee club? Yes, Fox is previewing the first episode of their new series Glee tonight after American Idol. The show is looks amazing, and if that's not enough, it's from the creator of one of the best high school shows ever, Popular. So, check it out, because good TV needs to be supported.

Again, Glee is on tonight after American Idol on Fox. Check your local listings for times, and expect a full review from me some time tomorrow.

Fashion Victims Ep. 1.38

Mia didn't know why she agreed to meet Derrick at Grind that afternoon. She had been trying so hard to get rid of him, to get him to just leave her alone. Yes, she still had feelings for him, but feelings weren't enough. She had to much on her plate to worry about someone else.

She had a speech rehearsed. She was going to tell him that once she beat this there may be a shot at them, but as things were now, there was no chance. He had to just leave her alone. Give her a chance to clear her head and focus on getting better. She couldn't have the stress of him following her around, pressuring her into a relationship she couldn't handle.

Then Derrick walked in, that desperate but hopeful look on his handsome face. The way he looked across the cafe, his eyes desperately seeking her.

It was all gone. The speech, the strength. It had all melted away.

She grabbed her purse and her coffee and stood up, trying to get out of there as quickly as possible. She couldn't face him.

"Mia!" His voice was hopeful. He rushed over to her.

She turned, not smiling. She couldn't give him any hope. The fact that she had shown up was to much.

"I can't do this Derrick." She looked him in the eyes. "Loose my number, don't call me. Don't stop by my apartment. I don't want to see you."

She watched as that joyful, hopeful looking on his face crumbled. She could see the twitch on the side of his mouth that signalled the coming tears.

"I thought..." His voice was soft.

She had never seen him like this. He was always so confident, cocky. He had a smile that would make people melt, and an attitude that would drive people to drink. Now he was near tears.

"I just came here to tell you to leave me alone." She turned away from him, rushing out of Grind. She couldn't let him see her cry.

He wouldn't be so heart broken if he knew the truth. If she had told him who she really was, what she really was, he would shun her, abandon her. She had to do it first.

Out on the street the tears came, but she didn't stop. She couldn't allow herself that moment to just collapse against a brick wall in an alley, sobbing, and blaming God for all the crap in her life. She couldn't have her perfect TV movie break down moment.

There wasn't time, and she knew she hadn't earned it. She was a liar, a fraud. She was hurting Derrick now, but she would hurt him even more if she told him that she wasn't always the woman he saw before him.

Suddenly It's Sweeps

Sweeps is here, and lets hope it's good! Sweeps is when the big plots start to amp up. Expect lots of action, revelations and maybe a birth or a couple consumating their relationship for the first time. So, what does that mean for you, the viewer? It means anything can happen, especially now that ratings are way down. These shows are going to do whatever they can to get viewers in. So, if a show interests you, but you always find yourself getting lost in the plots, right now would be a good time to check that show out. Maybe you'll get caught up in all the excitement.

Fashion Victims Ep. 1.37

Rick grabbed one of the bags out of the back of Barbi's car. He wasn't sure why she was doing what she was doing, and he wasn't sure he liked it. She had decided, after Kurt had spilled the beans about his affair with Gio, that it would be best to quietly, and secretly move his brother's lover into her mansion.

It was about control, and Rick knew that. If Gio was here, then there wouldn't be any sneaking around.

"Rick, you didn't have to do this." Gio took the bag from Rick. "I know this isn't really how you wanted to spend your weekend."

"It's for Kurt." Rick walked around the car, and grabbed a box from the backseat. "The reason he got stabbed is because I chased him off, and if this will help, then I'll do it."

"That doesn't mean you like it though." Gio looked towards the house. "Or me."

Rick sighed.

This was not a conversation he ever though he would be having, and it wasn't one he was currently looking forward to.

"I have no problem with you Gio." Rick started walking towards the house, Gio right behind him.

"Just the fact that I'm in love with your brother." Gio stopped. "I do love him Rick."

Rick didn't stop. He didn't want to talk about this. He didn't want to hear about how much the tall, dark and Spanish stud behind him was in love with his brother. It was to much to quickly.

He couldn't even talk to Kurt about it. The one time he had tried to visit his brother he had burn turned away. Kurt had told the doctors that he didn't want to see him.

That part hurt.

"Rick. Stop." Gio's voice was booming.

Rick turned, putting the box down. He rolled his shoulders, trying to relax.

"What? What can I do Gio?" He sat down on the stoop. A spot he had become very comfortable with. "I didn't see this coming. I was blind sided. Then why I try to talk to Kurt about it, he runs off, and he nearly gets killed."

Rick could feel his chest getting tighter. He wasn't one to start crying, but he couldn't help it.

Gio didn't say anything. He just sat next to Rick, placing his hand on the center of Rick's back.

They didn't speak. They just sat like that for a while.

It felt good to let it out all. All the frustration, anger and confussion just poured out with the tears.

"Thanks." Rick's voice was crackly and thick. He wiped the tears from his eyes. "Come on. We better get this done. You're his welcome home gift."

"Yeah." Gio stood, stretching. "You know I don't like this situation as much as you do. I really don't feel like living with my boyfriend and his wife."

Rick stood, grabbing the box. This wasn't going to be fun, but he couldn't focus on that anymore. He had to focus on rebuilding his relationship with his brother.

That was what mattered.

Fashion Victims Ep. 1.36

Rick sat at his desk, his eyes closed. He hadn't slept for the past three nights. The case was going nowhere, and fast, and the higher ups in the city were riding his ass to get a suspect. One that would actually stick this time.

Everyone had been so sure it was Barbi, but then Kurt got attacked while Barbi was locked up, and they all found themselves back at square one. Who was taking the blame for this? Rick was, of course. The precinct was starting to treat him like he was the one who had driven the knife into his brother's back.

At least Kurt had lived. That was the only peace of mind Rick had at this moment in time. Yes, his brother had been attacked, but he was still alive.

His office door slammed open. Rick's eyes popped open, his chair tipping back, and before he knew it he was lying flat on his back, looking up into the face of what could have been Barbi's young twin.

Layla looked down at him, her eyes wide with anger, he mouth twisted with rage.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Rick stood up, the anger finally spilling out in the tone of his voice.

"What's wrong with me?" The girl was foaming at the mouth. "Go to the Hot Spot."

"The what?" He found Layla pushing past him, to his computer.

A web page came up on the screen. The Hot Spot. It was one of those gossip sites that he had heard about. He never really went to them though. Sometimes to make sure Kurt was behaving himself, but normally he stuck with the Tribune and ESPN when it came to his browser history.

"Look at that!" Layla was screaming.

Her finger was pointing at a grainy video playing on the front page of the website. Rick looked closely, and his mouth dropped open. There, for the world to see, was Layla and another young woman in the throws of passion on an office desk.

"What are you going to do about this Rick?" The finger that was pointed at the screen swung towards him, and began to tap his chest quickly. "You better find out who did this, or I swear to God, heads are going ot roll."

Rick clicked off the video, and looked Layla dead in the eyes. He was not going to be bullied by some twenty something model with a bad haircut.

"File a complaint Layla." His voice was harsh, clipped. "I don't handle this stuff."

Layla looked at him, her stare so intense he was pretty sure that she was trying to burn a hole through him.

"You worthless piece of..." She didn't get a chance to finish.

Rick grabbed her arm and pulled her out of the office.

"Listen here, I've got a killer to worry about, and a brother in the hospital. I don't have time to deal with your issues. File a report, and someone from our tech division can help you." He walked back into his office, but turned before closing the door. "And Layla."

"What?" She was half in tears, half ready to chuck a file cabinat at his head.

"Knock next time." Then he closed the door.

As Rick set his chair upright and sat down he could hear Layla release one loud, scream, followed by her stomping off.

He was now starting to understand why Kurt had started sleeping with another man. The Starr women were crazy enough to turn anyone off women for the rest of their lives.

Fashion Victims Ep. 1.35

Barbi hadn't seen Kurt since before she was arrested, and right now, seeing him lying in a hospital bed, she suddenly felt guilty. Yes, their marriage was a loveless one, but he was still her friend. He was there for her when she needed him, and that was more than she could say for most people.

"How's it feel to be a free woman?" Kurt's voice was weak.

"Nice. Feels good to wear something other than orange." She laughed, glancing out the window.

The doctor said that Kurt would be fine, but he still looked like hell. His skin was pale, his, his short hair was a mess. She had never seen him like that before. It was kind of scary.

"Barbi, I have to tell you something."

Barbi didn't like the tone in Kurt's voice. It was the same tone she had heard girlfriends use when telling their boyfriend that they were pregnant. Well, at least she didn't have to worry about Kurt getting pregnant.

"I've been sleeping with Gio." He spoke slowly, but with strength.

She looked at him, but she wasn't shocked. She knew he had been cheating. Hell, she was cheating. The fact that it was Gio didn't shock her. It was a little bit of a surprise, to be sure, but it wasn't any worse or any better than if he had said he had been sleeping with one of the female models.

Still, she had to admit that she was a little hurt. That was the surprise. That she actually felt a little disappointed that Kurt had just admited that their marriage was nothing but a front. At least, that was what it had become.

"Are you going to go public with it?" She kept her voice calm, soft. She didn't want to freak out, not at Kurt, not while he was like this.

"No." He looked away, she could see the shame in his eyes. "I'm going to tell Rick. He's been on me for an alibi, so I'll give him mine. Otherwise, it'll be quiet."

"That's fine." She nodded. "Shouldn't I be pissed off?"

He smiled, nodded.

"Are you?" He didn't break eye contact with her.

"No." She laughed. "Surprisingly, I'm not. A little sad, but... are you happy?"

"Yeah, I am." He smiled.

Obviously this was going better than he had thought it would.

"I think this is the first time you've been honest with me." She stood, walking over to the window. "So, the question is, do we keep up the marriage of appearance sake, or do we end it, and go our seperate ways."

"For now," he paused, collecting his thoughts, "we'll keep things up for appearance sake, but when all this blows over. When they catch the killer, we should probably..."

"Alright." She could feel her chest tighten. Was she actually close to tears?

She turned, walking over to the bed, and in a move that surprised both of them, she hugged Kurt, kissing him on the forehead.

"You'll find someone who can really make you happy Barbi." Kurt's voice was a whisper. "I know it."

"Thanks." She wiped the tear that was running down her cheek.

She stood up straight, took a deep breath, brushed her long blonde hair behind her shoulders, and headed towards the door. She stopped before leaving the room, glancing back one last time.

Kurt was watching her, a weak smile on his face, shock in his eyes, and tears running down his cheeks.

Barbi knew that even though they were going to stay together that the marriage was really over. At that moment, with Kurt being totally honest with her, she knew the truth.

It hurt.

All My Children, Oh Dear Lordy...

Alrighty, my post yesterday was about what was wrong with General Hospital. Well, today is about what is oh so right about All My Children. When did this show get so damn good?

Currently we have a few major plots that involve a whole mess of characters taking over the show. The first is the defective heart valve in little Ian Slater's chest. Anyone guessing how this one is going to end? Well, apparently Friday we are getting a nice bit of murder which is going to throw the residents of Pine Valley into a tizzy. The story is tense. I mean, really tense. Everyone is out to get Adam for the part he played, and right now, if Adam ends up dead, then everyone is a suspect.

The writing is tight and fast. The story is barriling through, and I honestly have to say, it's working. I can't catch my breath while watching the show.

The second storyline ties into the heart valve storyline in a way. Marissa's arrival seemed a little to perfect. Babe is dead, so David and Krystal need a child. Enter Marissa. All I have to say about that is... Thank God! Marissa is a great character, showing both equal amounts of kindness and strength. The actress portraying her, Brittany Allen, has hit every emotional beat with perfection, and has helped create one of the best characters the show has seen in a while.

Marissa's arrival has also done something else amazing. It has made David human. His monologue at Babe's grave today was amazingly touching, insightful and well done. Up until this point David has been a very lame villian with no real direction. Now he is a man struggling with his own personal demons, and the need to be closer to the child he never had. Even Krystal has been given a second wind with this story. She is being put into a very scary, dark place, and the scenes between her and Krystal and David are so tense and raw that you can't help but hold your breath while the drama plays out.

Charles Pratt Jr. recently had a little bit of a blow up with the disappointing way the Bianca/Reese storyline was handled (personally, I thought the story was fine. Not to exciting, but it was a nice way to give Bianca a happy ending), and sure he lacked a whole lot of tact when he blamed Eden Riegel for the storyline's failure, but hot damn does he know how to write good soap opera. Gossip stuff aside, Pratt has been a God send to All My Children, giving the show some real power house stories and characters, while also picking up the pace. The show moves so fast that if you don't like a storyline, just wait two or three weeks and it'll be resolved. For the show as it is now, that works beautifuly.

So, all you soap viewers out there, if you haven't caught All My Children recently, check it out. It's everything a soap should be, full of high drama, over the top plots, and tense confrontations.

Fashion Victims Ep. 1.34

Jade had swiped one of the security guard's pass keys as they were escorting her out. If they were going to fire her she was going to take them down with her. She had plans, and there was no way she was going to let anyone get in the way of them. She had to many people counting on her for her stay in the hellhole that was Dollhouse to be in vein.

She slipped down the back hallway, towards the security room. Ever since the murder, and the attack on Kurt the building had been loaded up with security cameras. There had to something, anything on those cameras that she could use.

She slid the key through the reader and waited for the beep to alert her that the door was open. There was a click, no beep. She checked the handle. The door opened with ease.

"Perfect." She stepped into the room, closing the door behind her.

She had seen the room before. There had been five little TV's. One camera for the lobby, one for the main office, two for the elevators, and one for the break room. That was before some knife wielding psycho had decided to hunt the employees of Dollhouse. Now there were cameras everywhere. She smiled when she saw the last screen. Eve's death wasn't for nothing.

The camera had a clear shot of Barbi's office, and it's current occupants were in full display on the black and white monitor.

She reached forward, hitting the record button on the DVD burner under the screen.

"This is pure gold!" She had to hold back from screaming wth delight.

Layla was going down. Jade had her big secret on DVD, and pretty soon the whole world would get an inside look at how the new acting head of Dollhouse mourned the loss of one of their newest models, and the near death of the previous acting head.

Jade's eyes caught the monitor of the front lobby. The guard was making his rounds, making sure to stop in the middle of the lobby to release a little gas.

Jade shook her head, grabbing the disk and rushing out of the office.

Tomorrow was going to be one hell of a day for Layla. Jade was going to make sure of that.

Oh Lordy, General Hospital...

So, I was reading Soap Opera Digest (it's a guilty pleasure... I have a lot of those) and I took a look at the ratings, and wouldn't you know it, General Hospital was barely .1 above the now canceled Guiding Light. How does a show like GH, which has held the number three spot for so long, fall that fast?

Well, my friend and I were talking, and it's the fact that the show is just not interesting or fun to watch anymore. If the show stinks, then the ratings will reflect that. Plots are dull and to mob focused, and relationships die out way to fast. How quickly did Lucky and Sam disolve, or Jason and Elizabeth? The characters have these long, tortured set ups to the relationship, and then the second they get together things fall apart.

The show is all plot, and no character. Characters just do things randomly to set another plot in to motion. There is nothing to hold on to.

So, how do you save GH? I have no clue. That show is really hurting. They could start by getting a new headwriter in there, and bringing back some classic characters for more than just a two week stint! Then fix Robin, nix the mob, and get the stories where they should be, in the hospital! All My Children spends more time in the hospital than the show named General Hospital. There is something wrong with that!

While all the soaps are hurting in the ratings, General Hospital has taken the biggest drop. ABC should see that as a sign that the people in charge over at the show are doing something wrong, something very wrong, and the audience just won't can't take it anymore. Fix it or dump it and bring something new on, but do something, because General Hospital, as it is now, is a waste of an hour, and a whole ton of talent.

Fashion Victims Ep. 1.33

Derrick began loading his camera, the new model hiding in the changing room, stretching out the time. Less time ment less frames, and this gentleman, that was the word Layla had used, was of a certain age. The easy translation was that he was old.

He was staying up all night in his studio for a geriatric model.

Derrick sighed, rolling his neck. He still hadn't recovered from the incident with Mia. He had spilled his heart out, at least the best he could, and she had shown him the door. It wasn't a situation he was familiar with, and it was one he never wanted to feel again.

"Derrick?" A smooth, deep voice sounded over Derrick's shoulder. "I'm ready."

Derrick turned and found himself looking at one of the most handsome men he had ever seen. The model was tall, with wide shoulders, a strong jaw and eyes that seemed to glitter under the stage lights.

"Are you okay?" The man, Jackson spoke again, then he laughed. It was deep, throaty, rich.

"Yes. Um, just step over towards the background. It's just simple headshots." He was shocked that Jackson's very presence was causing him to stutter. He had never had that happen before.

Jackson did as he was told, although Derrick was shocked as the model unbuttoned his shirt, throwing it to the side. Jackson's chest was built, with a little smattering of still black chest hair. He was the Brawny man before the Brawny man got sensitive.

"You might want to close your mouth. You're drooling." Jackson crossed his arms over his chest. "You're not living up to your reputation Derrick."

"I'm sorry." He laughed, shaking his head. "It's been a long week. Month. It's been exhausting, okay."

"So I've heard." Jackson struck his first pose.

Derrick began to shoot, his eyes glued to his latest subject. Half of him was enjoying the moment, but the other half wanted to get the hell out of that studio, and away from that... man.

The shoot continued for another twenty minutes before Jackson decided he needed a break. The heat from the lights was wearing him out. It was also creating a nice, shiny layer of sweat on his skin.

Derrick through him a towel.

"You're good for..." Derrick tried to choose his words wisely.

"For an old man?" Jackson began patting down his chest. "You can say it. I don't mind. I'm old. Well, I'm old for a model, right?"

Derrick just shook his head, trying to clear his mind. He walked forward, checking Jackson's light, but the model wasn't having it.

Jackson walked back towards the sitting area, his arm brushing against Derrick's chest. There was a spark, a heat, something that Derrick had never really felt before, and wasn't sure he wanted to feel it again.

He knew that Jackson had felt it as well, just from the way he looked back at him, a coy smile on his lips.

Derrick wasn't sure what was happening, but he was sure that this was not something he was ready for. Not yet.

"I think I've got enough for now." Derrick pulled his eyes off of Jackson. "If they want more we'll grab some later in the week, okay?"

"Alright." Jackson grabbed his shirt, passing by Derrick on his way out of the studio. As he passed he leaned in, getting close to Derrick's ear. "You're not the first straight man I've turned on, and you won't be the last."

Derrick stood there, alone, shocked. Things were getting weirder by the minute, and he was getting ready to just give up, give in, and go along for the ride.

Fashion Victims Ep. 1.32

Layla had decided that it was best to stay late to catch up on things. Kurt had gotten some stuff done during his short stay, but it wasn't enough. They were backed up so far she would be staying up all night for the next two weeks just to make a small dent.

She ran her hands through her now short blonde hair. She had gotten it cut during her lunch break. If she was going to be the boss, she had to look like a boss, and the long teenage locks had to go.

The office door slammed open, and a drunken Annabelle stumbled in.

"Am I really that stupid?" Her words were hard to understand through the slurring and the accent. "You see it in me, don't you? That dumb little country girl."

"What's wrong?" Layla sighed, putting down the latest schedule.

"I actually thought I had a chance with Derrick." She leaned against the wall, trying to hold herself up. "I am that stupid."

Layla stood, walking over to Annabelle. She gently placed her hand on the drunk girl's shoulder. The smell of booze nearly knocked her across the room. Apparently Annabelle could throw them down like the best of them.

"Derrick seems to be a right of passage around here." Layla added a reassuring laugh to the end of her sentence. An attempt to put Layla at ease.

"Did you fall for it?" She looked Layla dead in the eyes, tears running down her face, leaving little black trails.

"Derrick isn't my type." She found herself pushing Annabelle's slicked black bangs from her forehead. "Not even close."

Annabelle just looked at her. It seemed that she was finally starting to get it. She was finally starting to see that Annabelle saw what Layla really wanted.

Annabelle leaned in quickly, kissing Layla. The move took Layla totally by surprise, but she couldn't deny that it was something she had been hoping for. Still, she didn't want to hurt the poor girl, make her confused. She didn't want to be the lesbian version of Derrick.

She pushed Annabelle away, taking a step back.

"Annabelle, you don't have to do that." She looked away as she spoke.

"Why not? I'm in a big city. I've already lost my dignity. Why not experiment?" Annabelle was more forceful this time, putting her hand behind Layla's head, pulling her in to the kiss.

Things quickly began to escalate, and the whole time Layla couldn't help wondering one thing. Was this one more thing that was going to blow up in her face in the morning.

Fashion Victims Ep. 1.31

Layla sat behind Barbi's desk, the scrapes on her cheeks well covered. Across from her sat an older man, early forties probably. He was extremely handsome, with a strong, defined face, piercing brown eyes, and salt and pepper hair. He was the epitomy of class.

"Mr. Levi, I'm glad you decided to show up." Layla cleared her throat. "With the way things have been going around here, I wasn't sure you would agree to this meeting."

He just smiled. He crossed his legs at the knee, gently resting his hands in his lap.

"Miss Starr, Layla, you know as well as I do that I'm not a stranger to controversy." His voice was deep, smooth. "Dollhouse is still the best, and I only work with the best."

Jackson Levi was an odd ticket. He was perfect male model material, but he was a PR nightmare. His past was... sordid to say the least. He had started in adult films, all male casts of course. From there he moved to New York cabaret acts, where he met his first, and only wife. He married into big money. At first the gay community called him a traitor, but he made sure they knew that he was still on their team. The affairs with the chorus boys and up and coming rock stars were enough. Still, his wife never seemed to care.

After his wife had died he had inherited a large sum of money, but he still decided to work, this time choosing a career in mainstream modeling.

Agencies wanted him, but some were afraid to touch him.

Layla wasn't afraid.

"Then we have a deal?" She tried to keep her voice calm. She didn't want to sound like a giddy child. "You'll sign an exclusive contract with Dollhouse?"

"Of course." He stood, extending his hand to her. "Send the contract to my lawyer."

She took his hand, making sure to use a firm grip. She didn't want to seem weak. She was knew at this, yes, but she had to prove that she had the strength to run this company right. She had to prove herself. Signing Jackson Levi was the first step in doing that.

"May I ask you a personal question Mr. Levi?" She stood, smoothing her skirt.

"Jackson, please." He slid his hands into the pockets of his navy blue suit pants. "And yes, you may."

"How did you make it work with your wife?" She gave him a coy smile.

"We had an agreement." He gave a small chuckle, looking away, then back at her. "We could both see other men."

"I see." She nodded.

She was pretty sure that Barbi would be less understanding when she found out about Kurt and Gio.

"If that's all..." He began to turn.

"I just need you to do some test shots with our photographer. We do all modeling compositions in house. We only want the best." She picked up Derrick's card from her desk. "I'm looking forward to doing business with you Jackson."

"Likewise Layla." He gave her one final smile, and then turned, heading out of her office.

Layla sat back down at her desk.

He was a risk, a big one, but he was one she was sure would pay off. Yes, he was older, but he was good looking. Yes, he had a very colorful past, but sex sells, and God knows he was sexy.

She sighed, praying and hoping that this didn't blow up in her face.

Fashion Victims Ep. 1.30

Derrick sat in the living room of Mia's apartment. He had never felt so uncomfortable in his life. Not that he was scared of seeing Mia. He wanted to see her. No, he was scared that any minute Gio would walk through the front door, and then throw him out a window.

His reputation, as well earned as it was, was not going to help him win over Gio's favor.

Mia entered, sitting on the couch across from him. She had a blue bandana around her head, hiding her bald head. Her normally olive skin was now pale, and she had dark circles under her eyes. Still, even as she was right there, she seemed so beautiful to him. She was still the Mia he remembered. At least her spirit was still the same.

"I don't know why you're here." Mia set her coffee mug on the table that seperated them.

"I just wanted to talk to you. I couldn't really do that before." He leaned forward, but he held back the urge to take her hand. Not to much. He couldn't take it to far.

"There's nothing to talk about." She took a sip of her coffee.

He sighed. There was so much to talk about. He wanted to just start going through the list of possible topics. Why would she just leave him like that? Why did she not tell him that she was sick? Why did she just shut him out?

He couldn't do it though. He couldn't throw all that at her. Not like this. Not like she was now.

"So, why are you back home?" He looked away as he spoke. "I thought the doctors wanted to observe you."

"They did and they sent me home." Her voice was flat. "I don't know if that's good or not, but..."

He couldn't take it.

"How can you be so casual about this?" He stood up. "How can you be so... calm?"

"I'm already doing everything I can." She took another sip. "Now it's up to chance, or God, or fate, or whatever."

"I can't accept that." He was holding back the tears as he spoke.

"I can, and I'm the only one who matters." She set her coffee cup down and looked him dead in the eyes. "This isn't your problem. Now, I need to get my rest. Could you please go?"

She stood up, walking up to the front door.

"Mia," He turned, the tears spilling out. "Mia, please..."

She opened the door.

"I love you Mia." The worlds tumbled out of his mouth so quickly.

A shocked Annabelle stood in the hallway, looking at him, her eyes wide.

"Derrick..." She spoke softly.

"What are you doing here?" He couldn't control the amount of spite in his voice. How could she invade his moment with Mia? Was she stalking him?

"She's my neighbor." Mia glared at him. "Now get the hell out."

Derrick stepped into the hallway, and didn't even get a chance to turn around and say goodbye. The door slammed loudly.

He was left standing there, a jabbering, close to tears Annabelle watching him.

"I'm sorry." She looked away, shuffling off quickly towards her apartment.

"Annabelle... wait..." He tried to call out to her. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay." She didn't even look back when she spoke. She just closed her apartment door, leaving Derrick alone.

Coming Soon!

Fashion Victims Ep. 1.29

Kurt was still groggy, but finally he was able to hold on to being concious. He couldn't go back to sleep. He couldn't go back to that nightmare. He was still feeling that sharp pain in his back. That was enough of a reminder. He didn't need to see that psycho with a knife haunting him in his dreams.

He felt someone give his handa squeeze. Kurt turned his head. How long had Gio been there?

Oh God, Gio...

He had been so sure of what to do. He was so sure that he had to leave him, to protect the company, to protect the life he had made for himself.

"What's the matter?" Gio's voice was soft. His large, smooth hand gently caressed Kurt's cheek.

Kurt couldn't speak. He just let the tears slip down his cheeks. Kurt couldn't help it. He reached up, pulling Gio's head down towards his, their lips meeting. He could feel Gio trying to pull away at first. They were in public. He was scared, but it didn't take long for him to just give in.

"Am I okay?" Kurt's voice was hoarse, dry.

"You're fine." Gio smiled, nodded. "You just need to be more careful about... us."

"Forget being careful." Kurt could hardly speak. "It's not worth it. I can't do this sneaking around thing anymore."

"So... you want to end it?" Gio's eyes shifted their gaze to the floor.

"No." Kurt placed his hand on Gio's arm, gave it as much of a squeeze as he could muster. "I want to make this more than just an affair."

Gio just looked shocked.

Kurt hadn't thought that maybe Gio didn't want their relationship to be public. He had just as much to loose. He had his career. He was mister stud, not some whispy little androgynous male model, and if Barbi knew then...

"I love you." Gio smiled, the tears spilling down his cheeks. "Are you really sure?"

"I'm really sure." Kurt smiled. He pulled Gio close. "I love you to." His voice was a weak whisper.

He didn't want to let Gio go, but the pain of their embrace was beginning to be to much. The knife wound in his back was not really in the mood for a romantic moment.

Gio let him go.

"Now there is only one problem." Gio wiped his eyes.

"How the hell do we break this to Barbi?" Kurt closed his eyes. Now his head was hurting him just as much as his back.

This was not going to be easy.

A Change of Style

So, yeah, I changed the style of the blog. The content will still be the same, but I wanted to try something a little less... depressing. Hope ya'll like it!

Fashion Victims Ep. 1.28

Layla had on her best power bitch suit, cut low in the front, showing off just enough of her ample cleavage. The charcoal grey suit seemed perefect for what she was going to do. She hated what had happened to Kurt. She wouldn't wish that fate on her worst enemy, but she was the one with power now, and it was time she started acting like the bitch she always knew she was.

She walked down the hallway heading towards what was once Barbi's office, her heels clacking on the hard wood floor. Her head was high, her chin up, her blonde hair pulled back in a loose bun. She was ready.

"Where do you think you're going?" Jade stepped in front of her.

"Into my office." Layla smirked, then pushed Jade out of the way, and continued walking. "Didn't you hear? I gain control now that both Barbi and Kurt are unavailable."

"The board wouldn't allow that!" Jade came at her quickly, her eyes wide. The terror was setting in. "They wouldn't let some... some..."

"Someone with a business degree who graduated top of her class run their precious company?" Layla stopped, turning to face her shocked assistant. She spoke slowly. "You didn't know that, did you?"

Jade's mouth just flapped in place. She was speechless, and Layla was loving every minute of it.

"Anymore problems?" Layla pursed her lips, giving Jade a wide eyed stare of annoyance.

Jade didn't speak. Layla nodded, turned, and opened the door to her office.

"You bitch." Jade was speaking under her breath, but she knew Layla could hear her.

Layla didn't speak, she just walked towards her assistant, yes, she had to remind herself that Jade was her assistant now. She controled Jade's future at the company. She knew she couldn't just fire Jade on the spot. Kurt had pointed that out to her. So, she had to push Jade. Make her do something that would warrant her getting fired. Or arrested.

"I'll need all the new headshots on my desk by noon, and the schedule for our top three models." She spoke softly.

"I'm not lifting a finger for you." Jade spoke through gritted teeth. She appeared to be close to tears. "There is no way in hell you are taking this company over. No way!" She jabbed her finger towards Layla's face.

"So, you refuse to do your job?" Layla stood up straight, crossing her arms over her chest. "Wow, I don't know how this is going to work then."

"What?" Jade looked confused.

"Well, since I'm controling Dollhouse, and I need an assistant who is willing to do the work I give to them, then... I guess your time here is done." Layla's face was starting to hurt from the smile on her face, but she didn't mind.

Jade didn't speak, she just howled, slashing her nails across Layla's face. Layla's head snapped to the side. She could feel the soft, warm trickle of blood slipping down her cheek, the stinging pain of the scratches.

Jade went in for another strike, but Layla grabbed her wrist.

"Do you remember what happened last time? I kicked your ass." She whispered into Jade's ear. "Kurt's not here to stop me now."

Jade started to scream, but the noise was cut short when Layla's fist collided with Jade's face.

Jade sprawled out on the floor, passed out.

"Get her the hell out of here, and call the temp service." Layla walked into the office, slamming the door behind her.

Fashion Victims Ep. 1.27

Gio waited outside the front gates of the prison, watching for Barbi. He had no idea why Layla had sent him, but he wasn't exactly comfortable. Barbi may not have attacked Kurt, but he wasn't a hundred percent positive that the woman was sane. Still, Layla gave him the job and the check, and at this point, in this world, he couldn't say no to any check.
He saw that shock of white blonde hair moving in the distance. It wasn't as well kept as usual, but it was without a doubt, Barbi's. Finally she was close enough where the rest of her features came into view.
She looked like hell.
She spotted the car and walked to the passanger side door quickly. He half expected her to dive inside the car screaming at him to get out of there before they caught her.
Instead she quietly got inside, gave the prison one last glance, then looked at him.
"Get me the hell out of here." She sounded exactly like the old Barbi.
He did as he was told, driving down the gravel driveway, a small cloud of dust billowing behind the Range Rover he had been lent for the task.
"Kurt's okay." He didn't look at her as he spoke. "He's going to be in pain for a little while, but there was no major damage."
"Good." Her voice was flat, devoid of emotion. Her eyes were narrowed. She wasn't in that car with him mentally.
When he handed her the envelope she snapped back to reality.
"What's this?" She ripped the envelope open, pulling out a short, one page letter.
"You're not going to like it." He braced himself.
He knew what she was reading. She was now being informed that, due to the pending legal issues, as well as the bad press that Barbi would be put on a "long term vacation" until all matters regarding the murder of Eve and the attack on Kurt were resolved. This was all per the board.
She didn't speak, she just opened the window and tossed the letter out. Her face began to scrunch up, and then she released the loudest, highest shriek Gio had ever heard in his life.
"Son of a bitch!" She slammed her fist into the dashboard. "Who is it? Whose replacing me?"
He was almost scared to speak, but he was more scared of what might happen if he didn't tell her.
"Layla." His voice was soft, his body still ready for an attack.
She looked at him, the shock obvious in her eyes, then she undid her seat belt, pulled open the car door and attempted to exit the moving vehicle.
Gio grabbed her arm, yanking her back into her seat quickly. He didn't want to have to make that phone call back to the office.
"It'll be okay Barbi." He kept his hold of her arm. "It'll be okay."
She yanked her arm free.
"Gio, sweetheart, we're all screwed." Then she leaned back, closed her eyes, and didn't speak for the rest of the ride.

Soap Sudz News!

So, I've begun working on the new series for Soap Sudz. For more information, check out the Previews and Recaps page. They'll be a quick update with all the details, including the name, and a brief plot description.

The first weeks worth of episodes is already written, and I'm continuing to write the rest of season 1 of Fashion Victims.

Another World Returns... Kind Of.

Well, apparently I'm not the only one who thinks that text based web soap operas are a good idea! The popular daytime series Another World, which was cancelled in the late 90's, has been revived... kind of. Another World has been rebooted as a web novel called Another World Today.



I've given the site a read, and while the page itself isn't all that flashy, the story is interesting, and the writing is tight. I'm not a big Another World fan (the show was canceled before I really got into soaps), but it is cool to see an older show rebooted in a new and creative fashion.



So, if ya'll are interested, go check it out at:

http://www.anotherworldtoday.com/

From what I've gathered the series updates weekly, but the posts are pretty long, so it works out. Seriously, check it out! Who knows, if this one is a success, then maybe other past soaps could see a reboot. Like say, Port Charles, Loving, Edge of Night, Search for Tomorrow... the list goes on and on, and one can only hope that maybe some other companies try it out. Maybe this is the future for Guiding Light after it gets cancelled. Would that be so bad?

What GH could be...

So I took a little break from General Hospital, but yesterday I decided to start watching again. I mean, Holly was coming back, and Spinelli and Maxi looked like they might possibly be getting together soon. So, I tuned in, and to my surprise, found the show completely different!

It was nice to see at least one episode of GH that didn't have to do with the mob. Nope... instead we were dealing with romantic relationships (and a little shock as I watched Elizabeth and Nicholas make out not once, but twice), and a good old paternity storyline between Ethan and Luke, and Maxi and Spinelli trying to get back together, and... Well, storylines that had nothing to do with the "organization", "mob" and or "business". Yes, Jason was there, but him I don't mind. I realized yesterday what was keeping me from fully enjoying GH for the longest time.

The answer... Sonny.

Sonny isn't a bad character, and Maurice Bernard isn't a bad actor. No, the problem is that there is no way for Sonny to have a "light" moment. He is constantly serious and depressing. There is no soapy goodness when he is conscerned because a part of what makes soap stories so fun is the camp value. The over the top nature. His stories are played with a completely straight face, and to be honest... it was getting old real fast.

So, today showed me what GH could be. I doubt it will stay that way, but... heres hoping.

Fashion Victims Ep. 1.26

Annabelle couldn't believe she had forgotten her purse in the office. Would she even be able to get up there to get it? After the murder security in the building had gone insane. Even more cameras were installed all over the place, and security was doubled. She doubted showing the guard a head shot would get her into the building.

She got off of the red line, and headed towards the large, frosted glass front doors to the buidling. She gave them a tug. No big surprise that they were locked. She tried to peak inside to see if there was a guard, somebody around.

She saw a figure dart through the lobby quickly, and then vanish around a corner.

"Hello?" She banged on the door. "Hey, can you let me in?"

There was no response.

"Damn it." She gave the lobby one more quick look, but it was empty.

She walked over towards the entrance to the parking garage, and saw the the large steel garage door was open. That was a start.

Slowly she descended the steep hill into the garage. At that point she was wishing she had traded her heels for something a little more sensible. Steep inclinces and six-inch stilletos were not a good match.

She made it into the garage with a slightly bruised butt and a little scrape on her knee, but nothing serious.

The whole setting was kind of creepy. The lights were dimmed, and all the cement pillars blocked so many areas from view. She reached for her mace, and came up empty handed. Of course she did. She had forget her mace in her purse, which was in the studio upstairs.

She walked over to the heavy steel door that led to the stairs into the building. She pushed. It didn't open.

"Great." She turned, leaning against the door. The cool metal made her jump slightly.

Then she saw the car, still running, headlights on.

She ran to it as quick as she could, ignoring the fact that she probably resembled Peg Bundy.

"Hey, can you help me!" She waved her arms over her head, trying to get the driver's attention.

The car looked familiar.

Then she stopped dead in her tracks.

Slumped over the wheel was Kurt.

She ran, ignoring the pain when she rolled her ankles. He didn't look good, and she was not going to let high fashion stop her from helping someone.

She pulled the driver's side door open and screamed.

Kurt's back was a bloody mess. She took a step back, ready to run when she heard him moan.

He was still alive. She reached for her cellphone, and again came up empty handed. Damn it, her cell was in her purse, which was in the...

She had to think quickly. She looked over Kurt's body, and there, in the cup holder was his cellphone.

"I'm so sorry, but this is for your own good." She gently lifted Kurt up, sliding her arm under him, and grabbed the cell. Before she could pull her arm back, he grabbed her.

"Is he still here?" His voice was weak, but the terror in his eyes was strong.

"No, it's just you and me." She spoke softly, gently pulling her arm from his grasp.

She checked for a signal, and was surprised to find that she had one. She dialed 911 and worked through automated prompt system until she finally got an operator.

"You're not safe." He was looking at her, his face covered in blood.

"Help will be here any minute." Annabelle knelt down next to him, placing her hand on his forehead. "Just hang in there, okay?"

Kurt nodded, but she could tell he was ready to slip back into an unconcious state. Then she heard the stairway door slam. They both looked up, and standing in the middle of the parking structure was the hooded figure.

Kurt started to scream, but he couldn't muster the sound. Annabelle stood, her feet frozen to the ground. She couldn't speak, she couldn't move. She was just glad she hadn't wet herself yet.

The figure raised their knife, Kurt's blood still glistening on the blood, and made a slashing movement, then ran off just as the sound of the siren's filled the parking garage.

When she finally snapped back into reality she noticed that Kurt was grasping onto her waist. He looked up at her like a scared child.

She gently ran her hand through his hair.

"It's okay. Help is here." She smiled.