Fashion Victims Ep. 1.63

Rick stood in Barbi's living room, Barbi passed out on the couch, Kurt trying to wake her up.

"You're sure it was Layla." Rick tried to get his brother's attention. It wasn't working. "Kurt, she'll be fine. The stuff in her system isn't fatal."

"How do you know?" Kurt's gaze locked on Rick. He was freaking out.

"A few weeks ago we had her blood tested. The stuff wasn't fatal." Rick walked towards his brother and knelt down, making himself eye level. "Are you sure it was Layla who did this?"

"Yes." Kurt sat on the carpet, pulling his knees to his chest. "She was the one who had been drugging Barbi. She's the... Rick, she's the one who tried to kill me."

Rick watched his brother's eyes go wide. The realization that the person who had jammed a knife in his spine had been so close all this time was looking like a little to much for Kurt to take.

Rick helped him to his feet, then walked him into the kitchen. He sat his brother down at the table, and walked over to the giant steel refridgerator. There had to be a beer, something to help Kurt calm down. As he was now, he was going to cause more problems then help.

He found a bottle of wine tucked in the back behind a fuzzy carton of strawberries.

"When was the last time you guys cleaned this thing out?" Rick glanced at his brother, whose eyes had started to glaze over. "Stay with me Kurt."

"What?" Kurt snapped back to reality. "I... I don't know."

Rick poured his brother a glass of wine, and was tempted to pour one for himself, but he knew that he had to keep on his toes. One screw up, and someone else could end up dead.

"Just sit tight. I'm going to call in to my precinct. Let everyone know to keep a look out for Layla." Rick patted Kurt on the shoulder and headed back into the living room.

He hesitated for a moment, looking at Barbi sprawled out on the couch. She looked so peaceful, so relaxed. He hadn't seen that look on her face in a long time. Ever since Eve died she had always seemed tense. Well, wouldn't anyone. A psycho was running around bumping off your nearest and dearest.

What would she do when she found out that the psycho was the nearest and dearest of all, her own sister?

He reached into his pocket, pulling out his phone. Before he had a chance to dial, his cell went off.

"Hello?" He put the phone to his ear, the reception was funny. "Hold on. Slow down, what are you saying? Whose in a coma?"

He stepped closer to the window, and suddenly the person on the other end was loud and clear.

Derrick Patterson was in a coma.

Rick tried to react, to respond, but the sudden sound of glass breaking in the kitchen snapped his attention back to his brother.

"Kurt?" He rushed towards the kitchen.

Fashion Victims Ep. 1.62

Mia sat in the living room, the blinds down, the TV on mute. She watched pictures of her face flash on the screen. Intermingled with those were pictures of a young man she had known years ago. A man she never thought she would see again.

She couldn't bare to listen to what they were saying. She knew it would be nice and sweet, but there would be that mocking hint of pride. They had knocked the once popular model down off her high horse. They had exposed her for what she really was.

What was she? She was a woman. There was no doubt about that. Even before the surgery she had always known she was ment to be a woman. Her body hadn't matched her mind, her heart. She had never felt right until the day she admited who she really was.

She was Mia Ramirez. Mikel was just some show she put on to make her family, her friends happy. She had never been Mikel. He was the fake. Not her, not what she was now.

"Screw them." She turned off the TV and stood up, stretching.

She had two options now. She could lock herself away and cry in shame, or she could take pride in the woman she was and face the public.

She walked into the bathroom and looked into the mirror. Her hair had been growing back. It wasn't as thick as it use to be, but her scalp was now completely covered. The doctors had stopped the radiation and kemo. They said she was doing better. She was just glad she was starting to get her appetite back.

The buzzed look was in. Hell, androgeny was in. She would work with what she had.

What she couldn't work with was the pale complexion and giant bags under her eyes.

"Mia, you have one thing to do. You have to go out tomorrow and clean yourself up. No one wants to see a depressed looking model standing up on stage like Elliot Spitzer. I did nothing wrong." She smiled. Just saying those words out loud made her feel stronger.

And she had to admit, she was one hot woman.

And Life Takes Over...

So, I have to apologize for how erratic my posting has been lately. I've been having internet issues as of late. Apparently wireless in my house just doesn't want to work anymore. So... Boo to that.

Also, I've been working on the new Nightmare on Elm Street as a PA. It's been a blast, and I'm enjoying every day I get on it, but it makes for an odd posting schedule due to the film world not really working on the good ol 9 to 5 schedule.

Still, Fashion Victims season 1 will conclude next week, and Spirit Lake will start up. (Everything is already written, thank God.)

Fashion Victims Ep. 1.61

Derrick pulled himself closer to Jackson. He couldn't believe how much he was enjoying the warmth of having another person lying next to him. Usually he would boot his bedmate out after the deed was done, but right now he was enjoying the comfort of knowing someone else was with him.

"I'm sorry." Jackson's voice was soft. "I'm sorry I just brushed you off."

"It's okay." Derrick laughed. "It was a little bit of karma coming back to bite me in the ass."

He could feel Jackson's fingers gently gliding through his hair. He could hear his heart beat as he rested his head on Jackson's chest. He never thought he would be in a situation like this. He never thought he would ever take joy in a moment like this. Yet, there he was, totally content.

"I do have to go though" Jackson kissed the top of Derrick's forehead. "My daughter is coming in to town tomorrow, and I have to get her room ready."

"Okay." Derrick looked up, kissing Jackson.

"How about Grind tomorrow. Around ten?" Jackson sat up, but he never broke eye contact with Derrick.

"Perfect." Derrick sat up, releasing Jackson from his grip.

He watched Jackson get dressed, unable to take his eyes off of his... well, he didn't exactly know what to call Jackson.

"Jackson," he called out just as Jackson was about to leave the bedroom. "Can I ask you something?"

Jackson turned. Derrick got out of bed, pulling on his jeans. He had learned it wasn't a good idea to walk around his apartment naked, namely because the entire east wall of his apartment was a giant window.

"What is this? Like, are you and I... are you my..." Derrick could hardly speak. He wasn't the one who would normally ask that question.

"I am if you want me to be." Jackson smiled.

"Then you are." Derrick gave him one last kiss.

After Jackson had left Derrick was kind of surprised by how alone he suddenly felt.

He stood in his living room, looking out towards the lake. There was this feeling growing inside of him. Dread. It wasn't about Jackson, though. It was something else. Something else was coming his way, and it wasn't good.

"Hello Derrick." Layla's voice rang out from behind him.

He turned. He didn't even get the chance to speak. She rushed him, pushing him backwards. The next few things happened so quickly that they just seemed like a blur. First he felt the cold glass of the picture window press against his back, then give. Then he felt himself falling, the sparking shards of glass glittering in the moonlight as he looked up into Layla's smiling face, and then there was nothing.

Just... nothing.

Fashion Victims Ep. 1.60

Kurt peaked his head in the bathroom, the blurred, naked outline of Gio's body visible through the fogged glass shower door.
"You okay in there?" Kurt spoke up, trying to be heard over the rush of the water.
"I'm fine." Gio opened the door, peaking his head out. His long black hair clung to his face and his neck.
Kurt was kind of shocked at how long it had gotten. He also noticed a light layer of stubble on Gio's face. If this kept up pretty soon the only thing they would be able to book Gio on was the covers of romance novels.
"I'm taking you to my stylist tomorrow." Kurt leaned against the doorframe.
"Why? I look good." Gio smiled. He brushed a few strands of hair off of his face.
"You look like Fabio. I'm taking you to my stylist tomorrow." Kurt walked over to Gio, giving him a quick kiss. "I'll be downstairs."
Gio kissed him back, then disappeared back into the steam and hot water.
How had he ever gotten so lucky? He had the perfect boyfriend, the perfect home life, and when he finally healed completely, he would have his perfect job back. Things were looking good. Well, as good as they could look with a psychotic murderer on the loose, and a major scandal about to break for his company.
"Let me pour you another cup." He could hear Layla's voice in the kitchen. "You rest. You've been through a lot lately."
Kurt was about to turn the corner into the kitchen, but stopped. He caught a glimpse of Layla in the reflection of one of the hall mirrors. She had a small paper packet in her hand. He watched as she tipped it up, emptying the powdered contents into the mug she was holding.
"I'm glad you finally decided to come over." That was Barbi's voice. "I'm worried about you."
"Don't worry." Layla turned, walking out of Kurt's view.
There was silence, followed by a thud and the back door slamming open and then shut. Kurt rushed into the kitchen only to find Barbi on the ground, passed out, her shattered mug lying next to her.
He rushed to her, trying to wake her up, but whatever Layla had slipped in her tea had knocked her out cold.

Fashion Victims Ep. 1.59

Gio sat in the kitchen, a mug of cooling tea resting in front of him. He glanced out the window at the night sky that seemed to glow under the light of the moon. He was equal parts numb and distraught. He had caught wind of what Mitchell Cross had gotten ahold of, and he had to still find a way to break it to Mia before the press went wild.

Barbi entered the kitchen, not even noticing that Gio was there. She was off in her own little world. Gio knew the feeling well.

"Have you talked to Layla recently?" Gio spoke up.

Barbi looked at him, a little shocked that she wasn't alone.

"No. She doesn't talk to me much these days." Barbi opened the cabinate next to the sink and pulled out a mug.

"You should consider yourself lucky." Gio sipped his coffee. "You should have seen her at the last shoot. She was like a completely different person."

Barbi began filling the tea pot with hot water, never taking her eyes off of Gio. "How so?"

"She was just nasty. The things she said to Derrick, to Jackson... Honey, she's lost her damn mind to power."

"Did you just call me honey?" Barbi put the kettle on the stove and sat across from him, a small smile on her face.

"I guess I did." He laughed. "They slip out every once in a while. Just as Kurt. I can be a real queen sometimes."

"So, my little sister has turned into a power hungry mega-bitch. I never knew she had it in her." Barbi leaned back, stretching.

"It's more than that. There is something wrong with her." Gio got really quiet. He didn't know if this was the best time to bring up the fact that he was starting to think that Layla was more than just being bossy. He was starting to think she was dangerous.

"I'll talk to her." Barbi's eyes met Gio's. She got his point. "Speaking of sisters... how's Mia?"

"Still in the dark." Gio took another sip. "She has no idea that in a few days her world is going to come crashing down around her."

"I'm so sorry. If I had any idea..."

Gio held up his hand, cutting her off.

"It's okay. It's not your fault. The thing about secrets is that eventually they always come out." He looked down at the table. He wanted to scream at Barbi, to let her have it for being so careless when it came to his sister's past. He wanted to throw his mug across the room. He didn't. It wouldn't help.

Instead they both just sat there in silence for a few moments. Then the sound of the tea kettle seemed to restart both of them.

Gio stood, emptying the contents of his mug into the sink.

"Well, I need to take a shower. Kurt and I are going to Blacklight tonight." He placed the mug in the sink, and turned to Barbi. "You should come."

"I need a little peace and quiet. Thank you, though." Barbi smiled.

Gio nodded and left the kitchen.

Fashion Victims Ep. 1.58

Jackson didn't know why he had decided to go to Blacklight that night. He just knew he needed to get out. Things with work had started to get with him. Maybe it was a mistake signing up with Dollhouse. Maybe he should have retired instead. He didn't need the money, and the world of modeling was turning out to be a little to thrilling for him.

Still, there were a few things that were keeping him around, and one of them was drunkenly thrashing out on the dance floor.

He walked up to Derrick, putting his arms around Derrick's waist.

"You look like you're having a seizure." Jackson whispered into Derrick's ear.

"What do you care?" Derrick pulled away and moved deeper into the mass of people on the dance floor.

Jackson followed him. He knew he had hurt Derrick the last time he had talked, but he hadn't ment to. He just wasn't expecting what Derrick was proposing. Yes, Derrick never said that he wanted a relationship outloud, but it was there, in his eyes, the second Jackson had walked into Grind. It scared Jackson off.

He found Derrick, turning him so that they were face to face.

"Don't act like this." Jackson tried to hold his ground, but the bumping and grinding masses were constantly knocking him off his footing.

"May I repeat, what do you care?" Derrick's words were slurred. Someone bumped him from the side, knocking him off of his feet.

Jackson swooped in, catching Derrick before he hit the ground. He lifted him to his feet carefuly, noticing how Derrick's hands clung to his arms.

"Let's get out of here." Jackson locked eyes with Derrick.

Derrick just nodded.

A Little Early...

Yes, Monday's episode is getting put out on Sunday night. Enjoy guys! Next episode Tuesday.

Fashion Victims Ep. 1.57

Annabelle had found herself so lost in her book that when she finally looked up, Grind was getting ready to close. She sighed, stuffing the novel in her messanger bag and stood, picking up her coffee and heading out into the cool night. Even though summer was right around the corner, the city still had a slight chill in the air. She had been told it was normal, but it made her uneasy. It seemed like an omen.

She took her time walking down State Street, looking up at all the buildings, really taking in the city. She had yet to take an official tour, and she had been living there for months. Still, looking up and seeing the Sears Tower amazed her. She had actually made it, and now, after everything, she was ready to get her life together. She was going to find a nice, normal girlfriend, and have a nice, normal career. Well, as normal as a modeling career could be.

She quickly made her way down to the steps to the Washington stop on the Red Line, ditching her now cold coffee in a black metal trash can. The second the smell of the EL hit her she wished she was still in Grind. Nothing knocked out the mystic of the big city like the smell of urine and cigarette smoke. It wasn't pleasant.

She opted to stand, waiting for the northbound train to take her home. A homeless man had taken over the bench, and even if he wasn't there, she knew better than to sit. That bench probably hadn't been washed in a month.

"Don't you know the city isn't safe at night." Layla slowly walked down the stairs towards her. "Even in the nice parts. A girl shouldn't walk around alone."

"What are you doing here?" She kept her voice calm, but began glancing around, seeing if there was anyone she could go to for help. Other than the homeless guy, they were alone.

"I just wanted to talk. I saw you come down here, so..." Layla smiled, walking towards her slowly, almost prowling.

"You just spent three dollars to come down here and talk to me? It couldn't wait till tomorrow?" Annabelle found herself inching away slowly. She didn't want Layla to notice

"You shouldn't have kicked me out Annabelle. You shouldn't have ended things with me." Layla stopped, her eyes narrowing in on Annabelle. "I could have done so much for you. I could have made you something amazing."

"I don't need a svengali." Annabelle began looking around. There had to be an officer, someone.

"We could have been great together." Layla grabbed Annabelle's arm, and began to squeeze. "You had to go and screw it up."

"Let go of me." She tried to pull away, but that grip was like steel.

"Never." Layla smiled at the sound of the train coming.

Annabelle was close to panicing. She didn't know what Layla was capable of, and she didn't want to find out.

"Ma'am, are you okay?" A deep male voice sounded from the other end of the platform.

Annabelle turned, and saw a cop standing there, glancing down at them. Layla quickly released her arm, and hurried out of the station, up the stairs, back onto the street.

Annabelle suddenly realized she had been holding her breath, and took in a big gulp of air. Her heart was pounding so hard it felt like it was ready to pop out of her chest.

"Ma'am?" The officer was closer now, only a few feet away.

"I'm fine." Annabelle smiled at him. "Just a mild misunderstanding. It's all good."

"Alright." The officer gave her one final glance, and it was obvious he was going to keep his eye on her. "If there's any trouble, don't be afraid to scream. I'm right down there."

"Thank you." She crossed her arms over her chest. A chill ran down her spine.

She didn't want to think about what would have happened if that officer hadn't been there, but she couldn't shake the feeling that he had just saved her life.

Fashion Victims Ep. 1.56

Derrick walked quickly to the office in the back of the police building. He didn't bother knocking, but instead peaked his head inside. Sitting behind the desk was officer Rick Hart. The man he had been looking for.

"Rick?" Derrick spoke softly. He wasn't in the mood to scare a guy with a gun. "I'm Derrick. We talked on the phone?"

Rick just nodded, and motioned towards the seat across the desk.

"How can I help you Derrick?" Rick sat up straight, resting his elbows on the desk.

"I... I don't know if this will help any, but..." He took a breath. That sense of fear had yet to leave him from the night before. "You know Layla Starr, right?"

"Of course. She's my sister-in-law. Nice girl." Rick smiled, obviously trying to calm Derrick down.

It wasn't working.

"Not so much anymore." Derrick adjusted himself in the chair. He just couldn't get comfortable. "Sir, there is really something wrong with her."

Derrick filled Rick on what had happened the night before in the studio. How cruel she had been, the threats she had made. He even brought up the looks she had given him. Rick just sat there, listening carefuly, or at least making the effort to appear to be listening.

"So why bring this to me? Why not talk to Barbi about it?" Rick leaned back in his chair, his hands resting on his lap.

"I think... I think she may be the one responsible for the murders, and the attack on Kurt." Derrick couldn't believe he was saying those words.

"Do you have any other evidence?" Rick's jaw tightened.

"Well, did you know she was sleeping with Eve? The night Eve was murdered she was supposed to be going out to dinner with me, and Layla knew about it." Derrick didn't break eye contact with Rick. "I had heard them arguing that day. It was during a shoot. They were in the dressing room screaming at each other. Well, Layla was screaming. Eve just brushed her off."

"I wasn't aware." Rick honestly appeared shocked at what Derrick had told him. "I'll look into it Derrick."

"Please, she's lost it. You need to do something." Derrick stood. "I don't think she's done either."

"What do you mean by that?" Rick sat up, his posture becoming rigid.

"It was the way she looked at me. I told you that. When she was talking about possibly firing me. When she was saying she was going to get rid of me, it didn't really feel like she was just talking about my job."

"My advice then, Derrick, is to avoid being alone at all costs." Rick nodded. "If anything else happens, contact me, and I'll have an officer at your house in two seconds."

"Thank you." Derrick nodded, then reached out his hand.

Rick took it, and that was it. There was nothing else that could be done.

A growing sense of dread began to overtake Derrick, and he wasn't the least surprised that his first instinct was to call Jackson.

Fashion Victims Ep. 1.55

Derrick checked the light then adjusted the reflectors. He needed this shoot to be perfect. Layla was breathing down his neck. This time it was literal. She was hovering around his back, so close he could feel the heat of her breath on his neck.

"Speed it up." Layla's voice was a harsh bark. "I want these down now, and I want these good."

Jackson hung back at the couches where the models usually threw there stuff. He didn't speak, but observed.

"Perfection takes time Layla dear." He turned and looked at her, trying to keep his cool. "If you keep yelling at me, it'll take even more time."

"Don't give me attitude Derrick." She crossed her arms, her body rigid. She looked like she was ready to rip his throat out with her teeth.

"I'm not giving you attitude, I'm being honest. If you keep hovering you'll make me tense, and if you make me tense it shows up in the pictures. Got it?" He put down his light meter, and checked his watch.

As if on que Gio rushed into the studio, breathing heavy. Obviously his mind had been elsewhere, what with Kurt getting home from the hospital and all. Derrick understood, but he doubt Layla would.

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry Derrick." He tossed his bags over at the waiting area, then ripped off his shirt. "Give me two minutes."

"Why are you apologizing to Derrick? I'm the one you're holding up. Get your act together, or I swear to God you'll be doing dime store catalogues for the rest of your life." Layla stormed towards Gio, finger pointed.

Gio just gave Derrick a glance, and all he could do in return was shrug. Layla had never liked him, but she had been so kind to everyone else. He couldn't understand what was coming over her. The sense of power after getting control of Dollhouse from Barbi? It seemed like there was something else though, something darker under the surface.

Jackson stood up, stretching. He put his arm over Gio's shoulder.

"Listen, he looks ready. God knows I'm ready, so lets get this done before she kills someone." Jackson yawned, trying to seem relaxed, but the look he was giving Layla was one of pure hatred.

"What did you say?" She was in Jackson's face. "If I didn't need your face all nice and pretty I'd smack you silly right now. Don't you dare joke about that, you got it?"

Derrick couldn't stop his jaw from hanging open. She was out of control. Seriously nuts. The Layla he had known for all those years had been replaced by some mega bitch with a power trip, and now everyone else had to pay the price.

"Come on guys." He motioned his head towards the white backdrop he had set up.

The models brushed past Layla and took their places.

The rest of the shoot was completely silent, other than the occasional direction from Derrick, which was quickly over ridden by Layla. The guys tended to ignore her though, but it was obvious in their pictures that they wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible.

"Alright, you two get home." He put down his camera, and stood, cracking his back. "Layla, can I talk to you for a minute?"

She just glared at him, but nodded. He waited until Gio and Jackson were out of the studio, then he turned on her.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" He couldn't help the volume of his voice. He was pissed, and it was showing. "Barbi never did anything like that. She hired me because she trusted me. You want to pull that bull, then pull it with a different photographer."

"Barbi isn't here right now, is she. I am, so we're doing things my way." She picked up his camera, clicking through images. "Maybe I should replace you Derrick. You're getting sloppy." She turned her gaze back to him.

The look she gave him sent a chill down his spine. Something was off. Something evil was inside that girl, and he could sense it. It was almost as if the room had dropped thirty degrees. He was half expecting to see his own breath.

"I'll have the proofs to you tomorrow." He grabbed his camera, packing it away. He wanted to get away from her as quickly as possible.

"I can't wait." She smirked, then turned, the click of her heels on the floor was the last thing he heard before she slammed the door to the studio shut.

He couldn't help but feel afraid. He never saw Layla as a threat before, but now... now she was different.

Fashion Victims Ep. 1.54

Kurt was glad to be out of the hospital. While he felt safe with the guard at his door, he also felt shut out from the rest of the world. He missed Gio, and even Rick and Barbi. He missed being able to walk around in his own home, sleep in his own bed, and eat something that didn't come on a plastic trey.

Gio helped him out of the car.

"I can walk." Kurt laughed as Gio placed his arm around his waist, supporting him.

"I know, I just missed holding you." Gio kissed him on the forehead. A day's worth of stubble tickling Kurt's skin.

"I want you to stay here tonight." Kurt stepped through the front door, Gio still holding him, and was greeted by the smell of lavender. He glanced down the long hall that lead to the living room, and could see the faint flicker of candlight on the wall. "I see you've had the same idea."

"Well, I do live here now." Gio smiled, waiting for Kurt's reaction.

The thing was, Kurt really didn't know how to react. Barbi had moved Gio in? That was going to be a little awkward to say the least. Sure he had told Barbi the truth, and she had reacted better than expected, but moving in his boyfriend was not something he had seen coming.

Gio didn't even wait for Kurt to respond, instead leading him into the living room.

The large room was dimly lit, with candles lining the mantel over the fire place. The ground around the coffee table was lined with big, plush pillows, and on the table itself was a picnic basket.

"I thought I would throw you a little welcome home party." Gio kissed Kurt. "Just you and me."

Kurt couldn't speak. He just wrapped his arms around Gio. No one had ever done anything like that for him. Romantic gestures really didn't work when the best you could hope for was a quicky in the broom closet, or a night hidden away in some rathole motel room in the suburbs.

They sat next to each other, but didn't touch the food. Kurt couldn't bring himself to pull away from Gio. It felt to perfect. That moment was something he had always hoped for, but never saw happening in his life. Now it was, and all it took was him getting viciously attacked in a parking garage.

Well, he could have done without that last part, but at that very moment he could almost forget that there was someone out there who had tried to kill him. He could forget about all the problems in his life, and instead just listen to the sound of Gio's heart beat through his chest.

They stayed that way for almost an hour, just wrapped up in each other's arms before Kurt started to drift off to sleep. The last things he rememberd before his eyes closed was the smell of jasmine mixed with Gio's cologne. He was in heaven.

Fashion Victims Ep. 1.53

Barbi sat in her office, behind her desk as Rick looked over Mia's file. She couldn't believe she had been so stupid as to leave that information just lying around. She should have locked it up, or better yet, destroyed it. No, she just kept it there, forgetting it even existed, waiting for someone like Mitchell Cross to slither his way into her house and steal it. Now Mia's life was going to be turned upside down, and why? All because she was sloppy.

"No one had any idea?" Rick looked up at her, bags under his eyes. They had been going over everything for hours. Every little detail.

"Just me and Kurt." She sighed, turning her chair, glancing out the window into the giant back yard.

"Did you call your lawyer? See if he could put a stop on this?" Rick stood, stepping behind Barbi's chair.

She could feel his hands grip the top of the headrest. She closed her eyes. She hated admiting it, but it felt nice to have Rick around, to have someone else there to help her deal with all of this.

"They'll try, but in this day and age, by the time the information gets out there, it'll be to late. It takes one website, one blog to release what Mitchell knows, and it'll spread like wildfire." She reached up, gripping his hand.

How had she been so stupid to bring some guy back to her house. He could have been the killer! She had been so needy, so depressed that she risked her life, and the lives of everyone living under her roof for one night of passion, of feeling wanted.

"I'm sorry Barbi." His voice was soft.

"I'm not the one to feel sorry for." She stood. "Mia is the one who is going to be hurt by all of this. I promised to keep her secret. When she told me the truth... that she was born male, I promised her that I would help protect her, and instead I let the information leak. I mean, the poor girl is dealing with cancer. Now this?"

Rick didn't speak. He just put his hand on her shoulder, stepped close enough to her that she could feel the heat of his body against hers.

"You care a lot about your models." He gave her shoulder a squeeze. "You've managed to surprise me Barbi Starr."

She turned, looking him in the eyes. "Even I have a heart Rick."

He said nothing, and instead kissed her. She melted into his embrace. It felt so right, so perfect, but she knew she couldn't give in. Not now. Not with everything that had happened so far. She had let her guard down once, and now someone's life was about to be blown sky high. She couldn't let it happen again.

She pulled away.

Rick nodded. He understood. Hell, he may have felt the same way, and that alone made Barbi want him even more. Under that tough cop exterior was a real man who actually gave a damn about the people he had sworn to protect.

"When all of this is over." She kept eye contact, wanting him to know that she really ment what she was saying.

Rick nodded.

Then they returned to their seats, the desk seperating them, and got back to work.

A Quick Update

Hey guys, so the first season of Fashion Victims is almost done, and I was supposed to be starting The Gathering Storm soon. Well... I hate to say this, but The Gathering Storm is being put on the back burner for now. Yep, it isn't happening just yet. I have the first week written, but I'm not really happy with the plots that I have mapped out so far.

Don't worry though! There will be a new series.

In place of The Gathering Storm I will be premiering Spirit Lake, starting in two weeks. The series will update five times a week, and the first nine weeks are already written.

Also, Fashion Victims Raw is still happening. So, if ya want more Fashion Victims, don't worry. Raw will update twice a week for five weeks.

Fashion Victims Ep. 1.52

Annabelle thought the pounding was all in her head at first, but after it continued for a good minute she realized that it was coming from her front door.

"Hold on." She screamed, and the sound of her own voice shot waves of pain through her skull. She had never been a big drinker, and after last night she was pretty sure she would never drink again.

Slowly she got out of bed and started walking towards the door. She had to stop, the pain in her ankle shooting up her leg. She was not a happy camper.

Neither was Layla who, the second Annabelle opened the door, stormed in. She had a newspaper in hand and was screaming so loudly that Annabelle had to cover her ears.

"You stupid cow!" Layla was waving her arms around wildly, occasionally thrusting the newspaper in Annabelle's face. "You stupid, cheating cow."

Annabelle shook her head. All of it was to much. The hangover, the screaming. She couldn't focus, couldn't even take in half the stuff that Layla was going on about.

"Slow down." Annabelle stood up straight, trying to snap out of her fog. It wasn't really working. "What did I do, and why are you mad about it?"

Layla didn't say anything this time. She just handed Annabelle the newspaper.

There on the front page of the gossip section was a picture of Annabelle locking lips with a young man. The headline read Is She or Isn't She?

Annabelle wanted to throw up.

"You stupid whore. You use me and then you run right into the arms of... of... that guy!" Layla was getting right in Annabelle's face as she spoke.

Enough was enough. Annabelle pushed past Layla and walked over to the front door, throwing it open. She didn't speak, she just pointed. She wanted that crazy bitch out of her studio apartment that instant.

"I'm not going anywhere." Layla didn't move, she just stood there, arms crossed, hips cocked to the side, her lips pursed with defiance. "You're not going to get off the hook that easily."

"Nothing happened last night." Annabelle closed her eyes, shaking her head. Her life was turning into a mess. "Even if it did Layla, what the hell would it matter to you?"

"So I was just your experiment? You were just trying me on for size?" Layla's voice was low, threatening. She was walking towards Annabelle now, her gaze fixed.

"No." Annabelle stood her ground, getting ready for the fight. "No, that guy helped me last night. I didn't sleep with him. I didn't want to. He made me realize something. I want to be with a woman."

Layla stopped, shock on her face. She almost looked happy, but Annabelle was not going to let that fly. No one stormed into her place, threatened her and then got away with it. If this was how Layla acted then she wanted nothing to do with her.

"Then you and I can..." Layla's whole body relaxed.

"I want to be with a woman, but not you." Annabelle was getting pissed. "Not some crazy bitch whose going to fly off the handle every time some paparazzi shoots some picture of me. Not you Layla. Not again. Not ever."

Annabelle didn't even wait for Layla to respond. She just grabbed her boss by the shoulders and shoved her into the hallway, slamming the door behind her.

Her hangover was gone, replaced with something else. Confidence. She knew who she was, what she wanted, and what she for sure as hell didn't want.

Fashion Victims Ep. 51

Mitchell found himself back at the Blacklight. His boss had been happy with the information he had given her, but he on the other hand felt like crap. He knew what he had to do, and he knew why he had to do it, but he wasn't sure he was ready to take on the pressure of ruining someone's life.

He melted into the crowd on the dance floor, his body swaying and moving with the other people. The smell of booze, perfume and sweat was intoxicating, and for a brief moment he closed his eyes, forgeting what he had just done. It was easier that way.

He wasn't going to stop. He knew that much. Jade had died for this, and he was going to do his sister proud.

He felt a body suddenly bump against him. He opened his eyes to see a beautiful young girl stumbling, trying to make her way off the floor, but in her drunken haze it wasn't so easy. He recognized her from the video Jade had sent him. The young woman was Annabelle, one of Dollhouse's freshest models, and the current center of a sex scandal.

"You okay?" He placed his hands on her shoulders, trying to keep her steady.

"I'm fine." She pulled away, nearly falling flat on her ass. Lucky for her Mitchell was there to catch her.

"Right. Let's get you out of here." He pushed his way through the crowd towards the exit, pulling Annabelle behind him.

Once they were outside she yanked her arm away, glaring at him with what could only be described as pure hate.

"You didn't have to do that." Her words were a slurred mess.

"You were about to pass out. Of course I had to do that." The cool spring air felt amazing on his skin. He hadn't realized how hot the club had been until now.

She just glared at him, and he wasn't sure what she was going to do next. Then, without warning she grabbed him, pressing her lips against his. Her hands grabbed his firm butt, her thin, toned body pressed against his.

Then just as quickly as she had attacked she pulled away.

"Son of a bitch." She wiped her lips. "Nothing. Absolutly nothing."

"I'm sorry." He actually felt slightly insulted.

"It's not you. It's... It's..." She was getting choked up. "I'm a lesbian!" She screamed the words, then fell to her knees tears streamind down her cheeks.

"Wow..." He honestly was speechless. The scene playing in front of him was to bizarre for him to truly know how to react.

"I mean, you're hot, and any girl would want you, but not me." She pounded her fists on the ground. "No, not good old Annabelle. The country girl who just so happens to like girls."

"It's not that big of a deal." He crouched down next to her, gently touching her arm.

Her head snapped in his direction, her eyes wide and angry. She smacked him and stood, trying to stumble away. Obviously she hadn't learned to drunk walk in heels just yet, because she made it five feet before rolling her ankle. She leaned against the brick wall of the club, crying and cursing like a sailor.

Mitchell glanced around, then walked over to her.

"Let me get you a cab." His voice was soft, caring. He wasn't even faking it. The poor girl was such a wreck he couldn't help but want to make things better. It was his fault, well his sister's fault, that she was in this mess.

"I'm sorry." She stood, wobbling on her feet and wincing in pain. "I'm sorry I hit you." She reached out, her hand caressing his cheek. She kissed him again.

"Anything?" He smiled, already knowing the answer.

"Nope." She shook her head. "I'm going to so get fired."

Mitchell shook his head, then carefully placed a hand around Annabelle's waist, leading her towards the line of taxis in front of the club.

After safely getting her inside the cab and heading home Mitchell took a breath, leaning against the wall outside of the club. He could feel the vibrations of the music against his tense back muscles. It actually felt kind of good. That good feeling didn't last for long though. Tonight was just another reminder that he was probably in over his head.

Way over.

Fashion Victims Ep. 1.50

Rick held his gun at the man standing in the middle of Barbi's office. The guy was tall, dark and suspicious.

"I asked you what the hell you were doing here." Rick kept his finger off of the trigger. "Wait..."

"I can explain." The guy put the folder on the desk, putting his hands in the air.

"Mitchell Cross, how the hell did you find your into Barbi's house." Slowly Rick re-holstered his gun.

The man standing in front of him was the same guy he had been searching for since Jade's body had been found. Mitchell Cross was not an easy man to track, and lucky for Rick there he was, standing half naked in his sister-in-law's house.

"How'd you know my name?" Mitchell's demenor changed completely.

Rick didn't speak, he just flipped out his badge, and watched Mitchell's face crumble. He knew he was caught. For what, Rick wasn't sure, but he was positive that he would find something.

"What the hell is going on here?" Barbi stood in the doorway, her eyes still half open with sleep. "Rick don't tell me you're one of those cops."

Rick just gave her a look. He knew exactly what kind of cops she was talking about. The type who would arrest anyone with skin pigment darker then khaki. He wasn't. He was the type of cop who found it odd that a half naked man was standing in the middle of Barbi's office though.

"He's my guest. Okay." Barbi stepped past Rick, but froze when she saw the file on the desk. Her face broke. "What the hell were you doing?" Here eyes shifted from the file to Mitchell.

"Barbi, meet Mitchell Cross. Jade's brother." Rick couldn't help but smile. Even though they had been getting along lately, he still couldn't help sticking it to her every once in a while.

"Get out." Barbi's voice was soft, but fierce.

"I can explain Barbi." Mitchell took a step forward.

"I said get the hell out!" She screamed, her finger pointing towards the door.

Mitchell left quickly. That scream was enough to make anyone run for cover. Rick took a step towards Barbi, but he kept his distance. She was dangerous like this. She wouldn't kill him, but it was very likely that she would at least scratch his eyes out. He watched her pick up the file, the folder shaking in her hands.

"This is bad." Her voice was low, shakey. "This is really bad."

"What?" Rick walked over, glancing at the file. "Oh."

They looked at each other, not sure of what to do next. Could they warn Mia? How would they tell someone who was suffering from cancer that their whole life was about to explode all over again.

"Tell Gio." Rick spoke slowly.

Barbi nodded, but her silence told Rick that it was time to leave.

Quickly he exited the office, running towards his car as the sound of Barbi's angry screams filled the mansion.

Fashion Victims Ep. 1.49

Mitchell slipped out of Barbi's room around four in the morning. He had a mission, and unlike his sister, he wasn't going to be so obvious. Jade had been sloppy, and it got her killed. Mitchell wasn't going to make that mistake.

He stepped slowly, quietly down the hall towards the office in the east wing of the mansion. He knew that Barbi kept the good stuff in her house. The office was to public, but her home office was her sanctuary.

Once inside he gently closed the door, making sure no one was watching him. He skipped the computer. There was probably an access code, and he knew he didn't have the time to figure it out. Instead he headed over to the row of file cabinates. Nothing said blackmail like a good old paperwork.

He randomly started opening drawers, but his eyes fell on one file. Mia Ramirez. He had seen her ads, her runway work. She was amazing. Emphasis on the was. Lately she had fallen off the face of the earth, and no one knew why. Well, Mitchell was pretty sure he was about to find out.

He grabbed the file, flipping it open.

"I've hit the motherload." He smiled, picking up a picture of a young man. He was slim, with long black hair, and delicate features.

He knew right then and there who that young man was. On the back of the picture it said Marcus Rodrigez, but he knew that young man had a knew name now. He had a new name, a new body, and a new life.

"Mia, how you have changed." He was about to slip the picture into the pocket when his eyes fell on the medical form.

His heart sank. This wasn't good. Obviously it was damaging news, but he knew this wasn't the type of thing he wanted to release.

"What are you doing here?"

Mitchell turned, closing the file, slipping the picture into the back of his pants.

He nearly pissed himself at the man standing in the doorway holding a gun at him.

"Umm..." He couldn't speak.

Was he going to end up like his sister already?

Fashion Victims Ep. 1.48

Derrick sat in Grind, his hands wrapped around his cup of coffee. The morning was extremely cool for the spring, and the heat from the coffee felt good on his hands. He had been tense all morning.

He had no idea why he had called Jackson. Well, he knew why. He had enjoyed their night together, and he really wasn't getting much action anywhere else. It wasn't like he was trying though. He had his mind set on two things. Mia and Jackson. Mia had rejected him, and in her state he had to respect that, and Jackson... interested him.

He was supposed to be at Grind by ten, but like every other model Derrick had ever met, Jackson was late.

He found himself checking his phone, waiting for a text or a call. Something. He hadn't been like this since he was in high school.

Finally, around eleven Jackson made his entrance. It was one of those moments where the whole room seemed to slow down, and everyone's eyes were on the person walking through the door. It even seemed like a slight breeze had kicked up, blowing Jackson's perfect hair ever so slightly.

"You came." Derrick couldn't believe how happy he sounded.

"Yeah." The tone in Jackson's voice was not what Derrick had been hoping for. He was distracted, flip.

Jackson sat across from him, his eyes wandering around the coffee house. He seemed like that was the last place he wanted to be.

"I'm such an idiot." Derrick looked away, his voice soft, weak. He couldn't believe it. He had actually thought that maybe Jackson had wanted to spend time with him after their night together.

"No you're not." Jackson's eyes finally fell on Derrick. "I've just had a long morning. I've been talking to the police. I haven't even been in town for a month and I'm already getting interviewed about the murders."

"There's no point, right?' Derrick focused on his coffee. He couldn't bring himself to look at the man sitting across from him. "We can't even do the friend thing, can we."

"I didn't think that was something you wanted." Jackson flagged down a waiter. "From what I've been told you're the hump 'em and dump 'em type, right?"

"Yeah." Derrick cleared his throat, taking in a deep breath, trying to keep a clear head. "I had fun though. I thought maybe we could..."

"It's not a good idea." Jackson placed his hand over Derrick's. "You know that, I know that. We took our mind off of things for a night. That was all."

Derrick stood, throwing a ten down on the table. He shook his head. How could he have been so stupid?

"I'll see you at the studio later. They want more shots." Derrick looked away. He knew his face was turning beat red from humiliation.

Then he felt it, Jackson's hand on his arm. Their eyes met for a brief moment, and Derrick started to melt, but it wasn't enough. He wasn't going to fall for that again.

On the way out he could feel his chest getting tighter. He had to blame it on all the drama. That was why he was throwing himself into... well, whatever the hell that was. That was the only reason. The murder, and Mia. That was what was driving him towards Jackson. Nothing else.

Fashion Victims Ep. 1.47

Barbi sat on the large leather couch in her living room, the sun coming through the window, beating on her back. The heat felt nice. She had very little that made her feel nice anymore, but the sun was one of those things that still relaxed her.

Rick sat across from her, his head in his hands. His fingers were rubbing his temples, and she was well aware that he had a growing headache. She had the same feeling. Hers wasn't in her head. It was growing in her shoulders, right at the base of her neck. The pain was going to be killer, but not as bad as facing the killer who was on the loose.

"So, lets go over this again, who would want Jade dead?" Rick stood up, stretching. He had been up the entire night before going over evidence.

"Well, my sister for one. Annabelle, and maybe a few people at the office." Barbi picked her mug off of the coffee table, sipping the hot tea. "She wasn't exactly well liked."

"Bad enough to get an axe to the face?" Rick collapsed in the large arm chair across from Barbi. "And what about Eve? And Kurt?"

"I don't think Kurt or Eve were personal. Jade, on the other hand, was very personal. It was mean, brutal... Whoever killed her hated her." Rick pulled out a cigarette, looking at Barbi for permission to light up.

She nodded. She could use a cigarette herself, but decided against it. She had enough things out to kill her, she didn't need another one.

"Jade was working for someone." Barbi crossed her legs looking over her shoulder, glancing out at the pond that sat behind her mansion. "She failed them when she got fired. Maybe they were making sure she couldn't spill the beans on what she was up to."

"Who was she working for?" Rick leaned forward a cloud of smoke surrounding his head.

"A company called Precious Stones Modeling. I've never heard of them, and other than the name I don't know much, but obviously they're getting into the big leagues, because they're coming after the best." She reached into her giant purse that was resting at her feet, pulling out the file on Precious Stones.

Rick and Barbi's eyes met. Someone wanted to be the best in the fashion industry, but were they killing to get there? Or was it someone else?

Now back to our regularly scheduled program...

So, I'm back! Posting will return to five days a week. Enjoy guys.

No Episodes This Week...

I was all ready to start posting this weeks episodes, but something came up work wise, and I won't be able to. I apologize, but work has to come first. So, hang on! Fashion Victims will be back next week. During this little hiatus, please, go check out a daytime soap. They really need your support! Check your local listings for times.

ABC
General Hospital
One Life to Live
All My Children

NBC
Days of Our Lives

CBS
Young and the Restless
Bold and the Beautiful
As the World Turns
Guiding Light