Tonya Muir - Exposure Season 1

He storms across the room, shoving the photo in my face before giving me a good hard slap. "Don’t lie to me, Kelsey! I know she was! I know she did everything she could to keep us apart."

"She was only being a friend."

He drops to his knees and forces me to look at him. "Well, it doesn’t matter now. You know why?"

"Why?" I hear myself ask.

"She’s dead. I cut her fucking throat."

Oh, God, please no!

"No."

"Yeah, I watched her bleed out all over her apartment when she slipped away from you today." He sneers at me. His face twitches as he crumples the picture. "See, I know all about that, too. I know she seduced you, deceived you, corrupted you. But, I don’t blame you, Kelsey. But she defiled you, and because of that, she had to die."

"She didn’t defile me! She loved me!"

"Shut up!"

He delivers another blow that rattles my senses. I can taste the blood in my mouth. As the pain and the anger overtake me, I let the tears fall. God, I hate that I cry when I’m angry.

She can’t be dead. I don’t believe him.

If she isn’t, why did I see her ghost a moment ago? Jesus. She is dead.

"Then kill me, too, because I’ll never belong to you." I tug on the chains trying to sit upright. I’m going to die on my own terms and not flat on my back. "Go on, kill me!"

He pulls his gun from his shoulder holster, placing it squarely between my eyes. "I can do that."

I close my eyes, hearing the hammer being pulled back. I wait for the shot as visions of Harper fill my mind.

Love you, Tabloid. We’ll be together soon. I promise.

<fade out>

Scenes from Next Week’s Must Read TV:

<fade in>

We all climb into the limousine and settle in our seats. The ride is essentially silent. I watch as the barren landscape of Los Angeles passes by our windows.

Clark whimpers against my chest and tries to burrow into my jacket. I know exactly how he feels.

"When this is all over, we want you to come spend some time at home."

I nod. "I’d like that, Papa."

Finally, we pass through the wrought iron gates of Fairlawn Cemetery. My heart drops.

<fade out>

 I am numb.

I haven’t felt anything for days. And I don’t know if I will ever again.

I’m dressed in a black suit, matching my mood, and appropriate for the occasion. I’m wearing my hair down. She said she liked it best that way. It makes me look wild, free.

I’m neither anymore.

There is a knock on the bathroom door. "Harper, are you ready?" Papa asks gently.

"Yeah, one second." I straighten up and look at my reflection one more time. I have to pull it together. Kelsey would want it that way.

I wander out to the living room and find the rest of my family. Robie and Rene flew in as soon as they heard about the murder. They left Christian with Gerrard and Katherine, but brought along Clark. Rene said it was because Clark is still breast-feeding. I know it’s because they knew I’d need him.

Robie hands me my nephew and I hold him close. This little human has been my lifeline. I’ll have to thank him when he’s older and spoil him rotten until then.

"The limousine is waiting," Mama informs us, opening the door to my apartment. She is dressed in a black dress and hat. I absently note that she looks great in a hat. I can’t wear them, they make my head look too large.

We all file out of my apartment, Rene slipping her arm around my waist and walking beside me to the elevator. Truth is, I’ve always been a little bit in love with my sister-in-law. I'm so glad she and Robie are here. I’d never get through this without them. Robie has been my best friend for as long as I’ve been alive.

We all climb into the limousine and settle in our seats. The ride is essentially silent. I watch as the barren landscape of Los Angeles passes by our windows.

Clark whimpers against my chest and tries to burrow into my jacket. I know exactly how he feels.

"When this is all over, we want you to come spend some time at home."

I nod. "I’d like that, Papa."

Finally, we pass through the wrought iron gates of Fairlawn Cemetery. My heart drops.

Rene reaches over and holds my hand.

We pull to a stop alongside a number of other limousines and the driver opens the door for us. When we exit, I keep hold of Clark. If I let go of him, I don’t know what I might do. But, as long as this little life is in my hands, I won’t do anything stupid.

The paparazzi rush toward us. Several of the funeral director’s men intercept them, blocking their view of us.

A sophisticated looking gentleman approaches us, looking appropriately contrite. "Ms. Kingsley?" he asks, as he takes my hand.

I shift Clark in my arms, but still won’t give him up. "Yes. Are you Winston?"

"I am. Would you please come this way? We have all the speakers seated over here."

I follow him, my family trailing behind me. Winston goes over the order of events for the graveside service. The will had been very clear – no church service, no floral sprays, no somber music. The event was to be simple, the music classical, and the speakers few.

I am one of three.

The two others rise when I approach. The first is a woman, a little shorter than me, but broad-shouldered. She has hazel eyes, short brown hair, cut like a cop, and I know instantly this is CJ, Kels’ previous lover. I offer my hand to her and she takes it readily. She has a strong handshake.

"I’m very sorry to meet you under these circumstances," I offer.

"I’ve heard a lot about you. I’m glad you came."

"Kelsey would want me here."

CJ nods sympathetically. "I know. Who’s the little one? Is he yours?"

"I only wish. This is Clark, my nephew." I gesture toward Robie and Rene with my head. "My brother and his wife. My parents behind them."

"I had heard you took Kelsey home with you for Thanksgiving."

A smile graces my lips at the memory. "I did. We had a great time. My family all fell in love with her. They came as soon as they heard."

"I’m glad. No one should be alone in all of this."

"Kelsey is."

CJ doesn’t reply. I turn my attention to the other speaker, a young man. "Harper Kingsley," I introduce myself.

"Patrick Collins, Erik’s cousin."

"I’m very sorry for your loss."

He thanks me and we take our seats. I look around and I see assorted Hollywood types scattered in the crowd. They all look a bit too perfect for this moment. Shouldn’t we all be falling apart? Sick with grief?

Or is that just me?

God, Kelsey, I miss you so much.

A bearded man steps up to the microphone at the head of the grave. "We’ve come together today to celebrate the life of one taken from us far too young. A young man full of potential. A young man loved by many. He died protecting one of his dearest friends, Kelsey Stanton. Our thoughts and prayers are with her right now. We pray that she is safe from harm and that she will be returned to us soon."

"Amen," I whisper and cross myself. I look over and see my family echoing my movements. Kelsey, I’m trying my best here, chér. I’m here representing you, as I believe you’d want me to. But I don’t think I can do you justice.

We’re trying to find you, sweetheart. We’ve been searching everywhere for this sick fuck. Four days. Four days without you and I am going a bit insane.

You be strong. You stay alive. I will find you.

* * *

We’re back at my apartment. Rene and Clark are taking a nap in my bedroom. Mama has just finished cleaning up after our lunch. Papa is stretched out on the couch, idly reading the newspaper. Robie is watching the news.

And I am pissed.

I go into my bedroom quietly and gather up more comfortable clothes, then slip into the bathroom and change. In a few minutes, I emerge, grab my keys off the dresser and stalk into the living room.

"I’m leaving," I announce.

"Where you going?" Robie asks from his spot on the floor.

"The station."

"Cool." He pushes himself up. "Let’s go."

I fold my arms across my chest. "Did I invite you?"

Robie pulls himself up to his full height, a couple inches taller than me, and crosses his arms over his chest. He makes sure he flexes his biceps. He thinks he can impress me. "I didn’t realize I needed an invitation."

"We’re taking the Harley," I tell him, as a challenge. No one drives my bike but me. And he knows it.

He smiles. "I heard you give good rides."

"Bastard. Grab a jacket from the closet."

"Watch your language," Mama chastises as we leave. Some things never change.

* * *

"Harper! What are you doing here?" Olson asks. He looks over at Robie. "You must be related to her."

"Robie Kingsley, her big brother." He shakes Jims’ hand.

"Ha!" I snort.

"What? I am. A whole nineteen months, eight days and twelve hours."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." I slap Robie in the stomach. He’s been working out, I notice. "Look, Jims, I need you to bring up all of Kels’ tapes in the last three months."

"Okay, I can do that."

"The unedited footage, Jims."

His brow furrows. "What are you looking for, Harper?"

"I’ve been an idiot. This bastard has been stalking Kelsey for months, right? Sending her shit, recording her movements, taking photographs. So, he had to be around, nearby, in the crowds. Right? He had to be near her to know that type of stuff. And, fortunately, we have a fuckin’ camera too."