A PORTRAIT OF OLIVIA (30 page)

Olivia’s still got a show.”

“Anthony…if you want to do this, let me go with you. If it gets nasty you should have a witness so he can’t sue or have you arrested.”

“Great idea…” Anthony jumped to his feet. “Let’s go!”

“What?” Peter yelped. “Now? How do you know where he lives?”

“I have his address and phone number right here.” He waved a business card at Peter. “I’ll call and make an appointment—tell him it’s urgent and that I have to talk with him right away.”

The Reverend Fellows smoothed the lapels of his black jacket with the palms of his pudgy hands and smiled at his reflection in the hall mirror. So the
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young son of the late Mrs. Hastings—
dear
Mrs. Hastings—wanted to donate a large sum of money toward the Fellowship Church in memory of his mother.

Fellows smirked as he straightened his dark red tie—then shuddered as his wife’s raucous voice reached his ears.

“Hey Jack! Who’re the two hunks getting out of the car? Shit! Will ya get a load of these two? They must be fairies…Hey! The blond one—I seen him on that talk show. You know, Olivia what’s-her-name—the black bitch you can’t stand!”

“Christina!” Fellows yelled, rushing into the living room. “Get away from that window. I don’t want them to see you. They
must
not see you.”

“Whad’ya mean?” Christina narrowed her blood-shot eyes at her husband.

“What are you up to this time?”

“One of them is the son of Patricia Hastings. He wants to donate a large sum to the church in his mother’s memory…”

“What is he—nuts?” Christina pushed Fellows aside as she made for the door. “I guess I’ll just have to let them know exactly where that money will go!”

Fellows grabbed her by the arm and slammed her viciously against the wall.

“You will keep your mouth shut!”

“Ow!” Christina howled, wrenching herself from Fellows’ grasp. “You son-of-a-bitch!” She put a hand up to the back of her head…it came away sticky with blood. “Look what you did, you bastard…”

“I’ll do a lot more if you don’t get upstairs to your room and stay there.” He raised a threatening hand, and despite herself, Christina flinched as she saw the murderous look in her husband’s eyes. “Now go—and stay out of sight until I say you can come back down.”

Christina staggered away as the doorbell sounded. Taking a deep breath, straightening his jacket and fixing a large smile on his face, Fellows strode to the door and swung it wide open.

“Welcome, gentlemen, welcome!” He beamed at the two young men who looked back at him with unsmiling faces. “Come in, come in,” Fellows boomed. “Now tell me…which of you is dear Mrs. Hastings’ son?”

“I am,” Anthony said, ignoring Fellows’ outstretched hand. “This is my friend, Peter Brandon.”

“Of course,” Fellows muttered, his smile slipping as again his proffered hand was ignored. “Please, come into my office. Please…uh, sit down.” There was something about the two men’s demeanor that was making him nervous.

He slid his ample frame behind his desk and sat down heavily, causing the
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leather chair to groan in seeming protest. “Now, ah…you wished to see me about a donation?”

“You come straight to the point, don’t you?” Anthony remarked, with a raised eyebrow. “No niceties…no commiserations about my mother’s death…no asking after my family’s welfare. Just straight out going for the scam.”

“I
beg
your pardon?” Fellows’ swollen cheeks flushed with anger. “Scam?

What scam? I don’t know what you’re talking about…”

“Oh please,” Anthony sneered. “You were scamming my mother for thousands of dollars. Our attorney found evidence of it when he was going through her bank statements.”

Fellows blanched. “Your
attorney
?”

“That’s right. He thought it looked a little strange—you know, a bit on the excessive side, so he ordered copies of the checks from the bank. They were made out to you, Mr. Fellows.”

“It’s
Reverend
,” Fellows snapped. He narrowed his eyes at Anthony as he continued. “Your mother gave my church two very generous donations. She was more than happy to, I might add. Her beliefs and mine were, shall we say, compatible. She was in agreement with my uncompromising stand against homosexuality and…”

“I am only too aware of my mother’s thoughts on that subject,” Anthony interrupted. “But let me ask you this. Did it ever occur to you that the more Christian way would be to have counseled my mother, and suggest that she reach out to her family with love and compassion?”

“She felt you were beyond redemption,” Fellows hissed. “There can be no compassion for you, and your kind. You are an abomination in the eyes of the Lord! The bible says…”

“Oh, cut the crap, you charlatan.” Peter, who had so far remained silent, could no longer restrain himself. “You’re the kind of double-dealing, hypocrit-ical, self-righteous bigot who gives the church a bad name. You’re only in this for the money. There isn’t an ounce of spirituality in you.”

“How dare you!” Fellows lurched to his feet, his face like thunder.

“No—how dare
you
.” Anthony rose to his feet, leaned across Fellows’ desk and stared the man down. “Listen to me, Mr. Fellows. You will repay the money my mother gave you. You will make out a check to the charity of my choice and you will do so before Peter and I leave here today.”

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“You can’t make me do this,” Fellows spluttered. “She intended that as a donation to the Fellowship Church. It was a totally legal transaction. What you are doing is extortion. I’m calling the police, and I shall…”

“Go right ahead,” Anthony said, interrupting the shaken pastor as he sat down again. “While they’re on their way here, you might think up a story as to why those checks were paid into your
personal
bank account and not the Fellowship Church’s business account.”

From the other side of the office door there came the sound of a high-pitched cackle. Christina had ventured downstairs after hearing the raised voices. She had guessed that all was not going according to her husband’s expectations, and now she gave vent to the laughter that had been building up inside her since she overheard the conversation. Fellows’ expression changed from one of consternation to one of almost maniacal malice. Both Peter and Anthony gaped at Christina as she practically fell into the room, still doubled up with laughter.

“Oh, Jackie boy,” she wheezed as her laughter subsided. “They gotcha, they gotcha.” She turned her red-rimmed eyes on the two friends. “You guys are great. Hey…” She did a little shimmy. “Wanna give an old lady a tumble?” She let out another raucous bray of laughter. “Oh wait, I forgot—you’re both gay, aintcha?”

“Christina,” Fellows seethed. “Get out of here—
now
.”

“What are you gonna do?” his wife asked with a sneer. “Beat me up again?

This time I’ve got witnesses. These guys have you nailed, husband mine. See, not everyone’s as stupid as you think.”

For a moment, Peter and Anthony sat transfixed by the scene in front of them, then with a quick look at one another they stood up. “Well, we’ll be on our way, I think…” Anthony said with a smile. “After you’ve written that check, Mr. Fellows…from your personal account, of course.”

The preacher fell back into his chair. He gazed up at them, not quite sure how all of this had happened. “I…I don’t think I have quite enough in that account…” he stammered.

“’Course you do, Jackie,” his wife crowed. “Now, who should he make it out to?”

“Save the Children,” Anthony told her.

“Oh, isn’t that nice?” Christina gloated. “Isn’t that nice, Jackie?”

Fellows seized his checkbook and scribbled on it quickly. “Here,” he snarled.

“Take it and get out.”

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“I’ll see you to the door, fellas.” Christina gave them what she hoped was a coquettish smile.

“Did he really hit you?” Peter asked as she opened the door for them.

“Yup. But don’t let that bother you. I can look after myself.”

Peter and Anthony could quite believe that, but as they left, Anthony touched her arm and said gently; “Don’t put up with that any longer. If he gives you grief for what happened here today, let us know. We will be your witnesses.”

“Thanks…” Christina’s rheumy eyes filled with tears. “You guys are great…” She closed the door quietly behind them.

“Well…what did you make of all that?” Peter asked as he pulled out of the Fellows’ driveway. “That was quite a scene, wasn’t it?”

“Sure was…” Anthony was quiet for a moment. “I feel so sorry for his wife.

She’s a wreck.”

“A drunk, from all accounts,” Peter remarked.

“If it hadn’t been for her though, I don’t think my bluff would have worked.”

Peter looked at him sharply. “Bluff? You mean about the bank accounts?”

Anthony smiled at him. “‘Fraid so. I was only guessing that he’d pull that one—just as well he didn’t ask to see the checks ’cause I don’t have them.

Lucky for me that his wife blew the whole thing at the right moment.”

“Jeez, you’ve got some nerve,” Peter said with admiration. “Wait till I tell Jeff this—he’s going to want to hire you!”

Orange County Times

Report by Linda Carter

The Reverend Jack Fellows, leader of the Fellowship Church, was arrested yesterday for alleged spousal abuse. Neighbors called the police when Mrs. Fellows was seen rushing from her home, screaming for help. Fellows refutes her claims that he had beaten her, but said he had been under considerable stress of late. The Reverend was the subject of controversy two years ago when he claimed that several puppet and animated characters were, in fact, gay in nature and should be banned from television. A police spokesperson said Fellows would remain in jail, as he was not able to meet bail…

c h a p t e r 1 9

s

Peter sighed as he gazed at the portrait of Olivia that still stood in his studio.

He was not sure what he should do with it. Would she still want it? It was good; he couldn’t deny that—some of his best work—but he knew he didn’t want to keep it. Could he put it up for sale in his gallery? The phone ringing in the bedroom interrupted his thoughts. He let the answering machine click on, then on hearing Winifred’s voice, ran to answer it.

“Hi, Winifred…”

“Hi, you sweet thing,” Winifred sang in his ear. “What’re you up to—no good I hope?”

Peter chuckled. “Nothing exciting. How are you?”

“Fine honey. Listen…I’m giving a little soiree for some of my closest friends—well, those who’re still alive that is.” She paused to laugh lightly. “Anyhoo, I wondered if you and that walkin’ dreamboat of yours would like to grace us with your company? It’s OK if you can’t—I mean, it’ll just be a bunch of old has-beens from the old studio, but I thought maybe you’d like to come, if you have nothing better to do…”

“That sounds great,” Peter said. “We’d love to come.”

“You would?” She sounded delighted and Peter felt sad and touched at the same time.

“Absolutely. When is this extravaganza?”

“Oh honey, there won’t be anything extravagant about it. Just some cheese-balls and dip. Just kidding. Sure you won’t be bored?”

“I’m sure,” Peter said firmly. “Jeff and I will look forward to seeing you again, and meeting your friends.”

- 195 -

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“Hope you’re still saying that after the shindig.” Winifred laughed again.

“Some of them are real old windbags. Anyway, it’s this Saturday, seven o’clock.”

“Great. We’ll see you then—and thanks for thinking of us, Winifred.”

“Oh, you sweet thing,” Winifred sighed. “See you Saturday!”

As Peter put the phone down he remembered that they had arranged to go see a movie with Andrew and David on Saturday. “Crap…” he muttered. Well, he was not about to call Winifred back and cancel. He had a feeling it would more than merely upset her. It had not occurred to him before that the aging movie star might be lonely up there, in Beverly Hills. Maybe he should suggest she come and visit them some weekend…

“Hey, you.” Jeff was standing in the bedroom doorway. Peter had been so wrapped up in his thoughts he hadn’t heard him come in.

He smiled as Jeff walked in the room. “Winifred was right.”

“Winifred?”

“She was just on the phone asking if I, and that walking dreamboat of mine, would like to attend a party she’s having on Saturday.”

Jeff chuckled. “Walking dreamboat? She jests, surely…”

“Oh no, she doesn’t.” Peter wrapped his arms around him and snuggled close. “Mmm, you sure feel like a dreamboat.”

Jeff kissed him. “Hey,” he said. “Don’t we have a date with Andrew and David on Saturday?”

“
Yes
,” Peter groaned. “I accepted her invitation before I remembered…”

“Well…?”

“I’d hate to let her down after I said yes. She sounded so happy we could come. I think she’d be really upset if I called back and canceled…”

“Okay, but you better let Andrew know right away. You know what he’s like.”

“He’ll be pissed, but we can see them on Sunday, if they’re not busy.”

“Fine. I’ll leave it to you.” He started peeling off his shirt. “I need a shower…Go call Andrew.”

“Yes, sir!” Peter saluted smartly.

“That’s my boy.” Jeff grinned at him. “Then…when you’re done with that, I have some other duties for you…Got that?”

“Yes, sir! Certainly, sir!”

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People Magazine

Report by Marla Dobson

You heard it here first!
Olivia Winters
and
Brad Kingman
(Galaxy X) are offi-cially engaged. The two love birds first met when Olivia was forecasting weather back there in Nebraska and Brad was in repertory. Now, Olivia (40) and Brad (38) have reunited and it’s ‘love is lovelier the second time around’.

The nuptials are set for November this year…

Eve removed her reading glasses and smiled at Peter as he walked onto her patio. “Good morning dear. You’re up early…”