23: after

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May
1995

The next day, Peter's face was on the cover of every gossip magazine in LA.

They had used a mugshot. It had been taken back in 1989 on the night of his arrest. There was terror in his eyes, and a flash of youth that was slowly beginning to dwindle away. He had been sixteen when that photo was taken. When his life had crumbled into dust around him. Seeing it now, he realised how young he looked. Back then, it had felt like the height of maturity, spending the night in a cold holding cell, crying and breathless. But he was just a kid.

Even now, at twenty one years old, he still felt like a kid.

Peter was sat in Andrea's decadent office, eyes tracing the framed photos of actors and pop stars which lined the walls. He tried to focus on her mahogany desk, pretending it was the only thing in the room. He was ignoring Andrea and Danny and the swarm of publicists buzzing around him.

"Hey." Danny murmured, slouching into the chair beside him, "You alright?"

They were like children, called into the teacher's office, scolded and disciplined. They had created a storm of chaos. It was all so much, too much. All Peter could do was try to breathe. "Yeah." He choked out, the word twisted and strangled in his throat.

Andrea was pacing the room, talking loudly to one of the publicists who was desperately trying to take notes of everything she was saying. No one was paying much attention to Danny and Peter. They were a mess that needed cleaning up, and nothing more. "It'll be okay." Danny said quietly, "Andrea's good at this kind of thing. Damage control. Which is...y'know, useful when you're managing a twenty two year old with a coke problem." He laughed awkwardly, trying to conceal his nerves.

Peter's eyes snapped up from the mahogany desk for the first time, fixing onto Danny's pale expression; he looked tired and full of manic fear. Danny never was good at hiding behind masks; they were always thin, and slipped off easily. "You have a coke problem?" Peter asked, voice still shaking.

Danny was playing with his hands, fidgety and nervous, "I thought you knew." He chuckled again, though it was forced and shy, "I mean... At the party..."

"I knew you did coke." Peter frowned, "Didn't know it was a problem."

Danny scratched the back of his neck, eyes refusing to meet Peter's, "Everyone does it here." He mumbled, as though that made any difference.

"I suppose." Peter said flatly. He was almost relieved to be talking about something that wasn't him. His mugshot. The horror on his sixteen year old face. Danny's drug habits seemed like such an easy problem to have right now. "You always needed to be addicted to something, after all."

Danny swallowed, "What's that supposed to mean?"

Peter shrugged, eyes back on the mahogany desk. It seemed to be the only thing grounding him right now. "You're an addict. First it was acting. Then it was Scott. Now, cocaine." He explained evenly, "You're always going to be addicted to something. Just make sure it doesn't kill you, Danny."

Danny was fidgeting worse than ever, "I...I didn't-I wasn't..." He took a deep breath, "I've never been addicted to acting in the same way I'm addicted to coke." He said it like the words hurt, "And Scott...I would choose Scott over coke any day."

It was effort for Peter to keep his eyes forward. He couldn't talk about his brother if he was looking at Danny. It was too much. "I find that hard to believe." His voice was lower now, though it made no difference; no one in the room was paying them an ounce of attention.

"Why's that?" Danny was trying to keep himself under control, but everything was spinning, and thinking about Scott always drove him a little mad.

"You didn't choose Scott." Peter replied plainly. "You chose yourself."

Danny slouched back in his chair, pulling his legs to his chest, curling up like a child. He shouldn't have taken so much coke in the toilets. He was all twitchy and jumpy. And hearing Scott's name - remembering him. His voice, his hair, the way he touched and kissed and loved. It was too much. All of it. Too much, too much, too much.

"Danny." Peter snapped him out of it.

"I'll never love anyone else like I loved him." He shot back quickly.

"Shame." Peter spat, "Because Scott will never hate anyone else like he hates you."

And Peter may as well have reached into his chest and yanked his heart right out. Because that's what it felt like. Like bleeding all over the carpet, struggling to breathe, the life fading out of him. Danny's whole body hurt, and his pulse was racing, and why the fuck did he do so much coke?

"Right." Andrea finally turned around to face them. "You boys are tangled up in such a fucking shit storm right now - I hope you realise the severity of this."

"Everyone in LA has seen my mugshot." Peter responded sharply, trying not to think about what that meant, how that felt. The most vulnerable parts of him on display. Nothing was private anymore. His life wasn't his anymore. "I realise the severity of this."

"That's enough out of you." Andrea snapped back. "I've had Jason Kelly's publicist on the phone all morning. He's furious. Doesn't want to be associated with a murderer-can you blame him?"

"C'mon, now." Danny tried to come to Peter's rescue, but he was lazy and distracted, "Don't call him that."

"That's what he is." Andrea crossed her arms over her chest, ready for an argument, "And you." She shook her head disapprovingly at Danny, "Today-today, of all fucking days-you decide to get high as a fucking kite, while we're dealing the the biggest scandal of your career?" She exclaimed.

"Biggest scandal yet." He teased, "I've got a long career ahead of me."

"Not if the drugs kill you before your twenty third birthday-"

"I'm not high." He waved her off dismissively.

"Don't even fucking test me right now, Daniel-"

"Fine." He growled, "I'm high. I'm always high. More so than usual today, yes. But-"

"Stop talking." Peter elbowed him the ribs, "Jesus, you're insufferable sometimes."

"Jason Kelly's team are angry." Andrea continued, eyeing them both warningly. They knew better than to interrupt her again. "They said he had no idea he was getting into a pool with a murderer and don't want anything to do with-"

"He's not a fucking murderer!" Danny stood up, hands clenched into fists, "Will you stop fucking calling him that?"

"He murdered someone." Andrea replied plainly, "That makes him a-"

"Don't." Danny growled.

"Vanessa Harding pulled out of the deal." She said, changing the subject once again, "Can't blame her. With all the heat, she'd be stupid to-"

"What deal?"

"Jesus, Daniel, do you ever listen to a word I say?" Andrea groaned, "You were meant to bring her to the red carpet-"

"Oh, the fake dating thing?"

"Luckily," Andrea continued, "Neve Olson has offered to take her place."

"Why?" Danny frowned quizzically.

"Fuck knows. Stupid decision on her part. But she says she's willing to do it as a favour to a friend."

Danny rolled his eyes, collapsing back into the chair, "I don't wanna fake date anyone. How many times do I have to tell-?"

"We need a story to distract the tabloids." Andrea's voice was hard and ruthless now. "And since you won't get yourself a real girlfriend-"

"That's because I'm gay!"

Andrea froze, the rest of her sentence getting caught in her throat. "You-What?"

Danny ran his fingers through his hair agitatedly, "Jesus, is it really that shocking? I have half the women in Hollywood throwing themselves at me and yet I've never had a girlfriend. What did you think I-?"

"This can't get out." Andrea shut him up quickly, eyes darting towards the publicists nervously, "We have enough to deal with at the moment." Her gaze found Peter's and her brows twitched together into a frown, "You." She breathed out, "You... You're not...? You two aren't...are you?"

Peter couldn't help but scoff, "Fucking hell." He laughed, "No. Absolutely not."

Danny looked at him in surprise, "Don't sound so disgusted, will'ya?"

"Right." Andrea interrupted them, "Good. That's something. A murderer for a friend we can deal with, but a murderer for a boyfriend would-"

"Andrea." Danny snapped, "I swear to fucking god-"

"Fine!" She exclaimed in exasperation, "He's not a murderer, whatever. The title doesn't change the fact that everyone is talking about this!"

"So, what do we do?" Peter tried to stay calm, to steady his heart rate and not think about how fucked all of this was. He had come to LA to confront Danny, not to become a twisted sort of celebrity. The blood thirsty best friend of Daniel Fox.

Andrea sat down behind her desk for the first time, slotting right back into business mode. "Right." She sighed, "Here's the plan."


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