Francesca
Francesca’s mouth was dry as she stepped into the so-called “Confession Booth,” where the Savoy family could spill their guts in “private” about whatever was happening on the show. Francesca always felt weird about talking to the camera like it was a priest in a confessional, but the producers loved it.
Sitting down in front of the signature red curtains, Francesca waited for the light to come on, trying to formulate what she was going to say. Her head was empty. So much had happened, but she couldn’t seem to think of anything to say. Mind blank, Francesca sat down in front of the lens and stared forward as the makeup artists flocked around her.
“Alright, Francesca,” the producer James said to her, looking happy to see her back. Francesca was a pretty popular part of the show, and he’d been rather upset when she wasn’t at the house waiting for filming to start. Hopefully she’d more than made up for it by bringing a bad boy for them to film. “Whenever you are ready.”
The light came on, signaling silence to the crew. Everyone was staring at her, their eyes trained on her face. But she couldn’t think of anything to say, so she stared dumbly off into the corner.
But then all of a sudden, like a dam breaking, words just started spilling from her mouth. “I spent the last month or so getting my new boyfriend out of jail,” she whispered, her voice like broken glass. “It was horrifying; I knew he didn’t do it, but the police didn’t want to believe. But he is innocent. He’ll not spend a single day in jail, even though he originally ran from them when they tried to pin a murder on him. It was because he was ‘helpful in providing resources to properly close the case.’” Francesca was rambling and she knew it, but she seemed unable to stop herself. Her fingers twisted around the hem of her skirt, putting permanent bends in the fabric.
“So I spent a month with him in his hometown while we waited for the charges to be cleared. I — ” She turned away from the camera, her eyes filled with something forlorn. “I wanted us to get back to normal, get back to dating and getting to know one another better. But then — ”
The staff were all staring at her, all of them holding their breath. Tears pricked the edges of her eyes, blurring the whole world. “But then, I found out I was pregnant,” she whispered, closing her eyes as the crew silently gaped at her. “Having a bad boy biker for my boyfriend is all well and good, but a bad boy biker father of a baby?” Her insecurities poured out of her like a faucet turned on full blast. “What kind of life would that be for our child? Can he be a good dad?”
Wiping her tears away with shaking fingers, she seemed unable to stop the tremendous flow of words that had been hiding behind her lips. “Maybe, just maybe, I need someone a little more stable. But then again, Logan might be that man. What do I do? Should I tell him? Should I — ” Tears finally overwhelmed her words and she sobbed at the camera, burying her face in her hands. “Is this what I should be doing?
“I haven’t told anyone; not my mother or my family or even Logan. I don’t know if I want him to know. I don’t know if I — ”
Francesca stopped mid-sentence as the sound of scream came from the other side of the soundproofing of the confession booth, muffled but loud enough for her to hear. Voices cried out, and Francesca was on her feet in a second.
She ran out into the living room of her mother’s home, fearing the worst.
And unfortunately, her fears were realized.
Davis and Logan were hitting each other, their fists up and in fighting position. The world slowed down as Davis took a swing at Logan’s face, only to be blocked by Logan’s arm. He looked cold, colder than any human being should be allowed to look. There was nothing left in him that Francesca recognized, and her heart froze into a solid block of ice inside of her chest.
Crying out, Francesca ran to them as they swung at one another.
# # #
Logan
“You’re a piece of shit, you know that?” Davis said, his whole body quivering with rage.
Logan looked away from him, trying to master his anger. “Please fuck off, Davis.”
But the pretty-boy ex of Francesca’s wouldn’t shut up; he would never shut up. He followed Logan around the house, spitting accusations. He called him low-class, revolting, and ugly, hoping for something that would sting, a weakness he could exploit. But Logan held firm, continuing to do his best to keep away from the brat.
“Can you do something about all of the noise in here?” Logan asked Diane as he made his fifth lap around the house, Davis close on his heels. He wouldn’t shut up, and the sound of his voice was grating on Logan’s nerves.
Diane chuckled. “You seem to have picked up a duckling somewhere.” Then her face became serious as she turned to Davis. “If you want to stay in my home, Davis, you will leave Logan alone. Any more of this, and we’ll have you removed.”
Davis backed down, leaving Logan in peace as he walked into the kitchen. Diane’ taste was a lot more colorful than Francesca’s, and the too-bright yellow walls actually made him miss that monochromatic white house. It had been too long since they were there; he missed it like he imagined he’d miss home, if he’d ever had one.
Despite the rules laid out by Diane, it didn’t take long for Davis to find a way around them. As Logan, much calmer after a quiet moment in the kitchen, came back to sit with the producers, Davis decided to join in on the discussion, interrupting Logan with every word.
“So, we’re going to have more of you on the motorcycle,” one of the crew said. His eyes were wide and glittered with the idea of filming all of those “action scenes” with Logan. “We’ll probably take some more stock footage of you on the bike tomorrow morning, if the weather is clear.”
“Whatever you would — ” Logan started.
But Davis was ready, interrupting his words with a kind of malicious glee. “It would be better if you filmed those scenes at night; it would have more of an impact.”
“I don’t care when — ” he started, grinding his teeth.
Davis interrupted again. “Oh, let the professionals talk; you just don’t know how these things work.”
Grinding his teeth together, Logan shut his mouth, listening with growing anger as Davis tried to alter all of the scenes Logan would be in. Every time Logan opened his mouth, Davis would be there, loud and juvenile, to yell over his words.
It didn’t take long for Logan to snap. “All right, Davis. You need to shut the hell up.”
The little snob laughed; even his laugh was annoying. He sounded like a braying donkey. “And who is going to make me shut up?” he asked, gleeful.
Logan knew he was playing right into his hands, but couldn’t seem to stop himself. Red tinged his view of the room as he stood up. “Stop acting like a child,” Logan growled, his fingers forming fists as he stood from the couch. “She doesn’t want you anymore. These games, the rumors you spread around to hurt her, make you looked obsessed. All you’re doing is hurting her; don’t you care?”
Davis laughed. “All I’m doing is helping her to make the right decision. Besides, she doesn’t need my help ruining her reputation. You two did that for me, all on your own.”
Diane stepped in between the two of them, no emotion on her pretty face. “Davis, Logan. Both of you shut up before I throw you both out of my house.”
But Logan could no longer hear her, no longer see her. All that was left was the sound of his blood boiling in his veins, the tunnel of red around his vision that cut out all of the world except for Davis.
“I’m going to kill him.” Without his permission, Logan’s feet started to move toward him, his body an unstoppable train. He walked around Diane, her protests falling on deaf ears.
Davis’s stupid, childish face looked so smug. Logan was ready to punch that expression right off of his spoiled little mug; this would be a lesson he wouldn’t soon forget. But as he reached Davis, his hands balled into fists and his face full of rage, Francesca’s voice cut through his mind. “You shouldn’t be fighting Davis; you’re only giving him what he wants,” her voice said, so clear that he was tempted to look around and see if she was actually in the room.
Sighing, Logan turned away from Davis, his voice still trembling with rage. “Look, man, say what you want, but Francesca doesn’t want you here anymore; she’s tired of being with a cheating, lying sack of spoiled shit. So just go, okay? You’re not going her any good by being here.”
But it was pretty clear, at least to Logan, that Davis didn’t care about Francesca’s feelings at all. Especially when Davis took a swing at him, his fist barely missing as Logan jumped back. “Stop it, Davis, or I will kick your ass.”
But Davis swung again, and Logan put up his fists. He wasn’t going to stand here and let this asshole take swings at him. So he swung a fist out, hooking his arm, aiming for the little prick’s temple, hoping to end it quick.
Despite his lack of skill, Davis was fast. He ducked away from Logan’s fist, sliding across the floor and swinging his arms like a cartoon at Logan’s back.
Someone screamed, something broke. The sounds of glass shattering filled the room, but still Logan kept his eyes locked on his prey.
“What is going on here? Stop!” Francesca’s voice said from behind Logan. Instantly, he backed away from Davis, keeping his hands in a defensive position. But Davis wasn’t going to give up. He followed him back, his limbs swinging around in an imitation of karate movies that would have made Logan laugh if the situation hadn’t been so dire.
“I said stop!” Francesca was in between them, putting her face violently into theirs. Davis pushed her aside, his eyes only for Logan. “YOU CAN’T PUSH ME, DAVIS; I’M PREGNANT,” Francesca suddenly screamed.
But still, Davis remained focused only on Logan.
Logan’s concentration, however, was completely gone. He turned to Francesca, his eyes huge in his face. “You’re what?”
A fist came from his right side, smashing into his temple with the force of a car crash. The last noise Logan heard before the world went black was Davis chuckling.
The little asshole thought he won.
Perhaps he had.