Episode #539

Written by Andy Eckles
for the 2009 Webseries Writer Swap

- Alex learned that the woman Seth wanted to add into their sex life was Sabrina. Alex found himself unable to go through with it and broke up with Seth.
- Josh agreed to help Courtney and Lauren by getting close to Sabrina again--but when he went to see her, he found her and Seth in a compromising position.
- Tim began spending more time with Cassandra Ward, the writer hired by Vision to help with Ryan’s book.
- Ryan urged Danielle to get back to songwriting. She was finally able to write a new song, about her experiences with Elly, and later signed up to play at Open Mic Night.
- After Danielle confronted Diane about Ryan’s drinking, Ryan and Danielle argued, leaving their newfound relationship up in the air.
- Sarah added fuel to the fire of Diane’s disdain for Danielle by reporting about a fight she had with Danielle.
- Caleb’s MRI revealed no serious injuries, but Molly, shaken by the experience, requested that Brent move out of their house until he is ready to give up his investigation.


Jeans? Check.  Socks?  Yes.  Underwear?  Plenty

Brent Taylor swoops into his giant duffel bag and takes a mental inventory of the items he packed in haste before leaving his house.  At the time he wasn’t in his right mind, still replaying the scene with Molly at the hospital over and over in his mind.  He could have packed Christian’s clothes and he wouldn’t have noticed.  Now, standing in Josh’s living room, he realizes he’s set for a few days.  With a heavy-hearted sigh, he hopes he won’t be there that long.

“Thanks again for letting me stay.”  He crosses the room to where his brother is flipping through stations on the blaring television set.  “It should just be a couple of days.  Maybe not even.  I think once Caleb’s been home for a little while, Molly will calm down and realize she overreacted.”

“It sounds like you’re trying to convince yourself,” Josh mutters over the wail of a ‘70’s cop show. 

Brent looks at him crossly between two socks that he holds up while determining if they match.  “What do you mean?”

He shrugs and changes the station again.  “Just that I don’t think you should take Molly’s position so lightly.”

“Wait a minute.  I thought you were on my side.  I thought you realized why I’m pursuing this investigation.  I’m doing it for Molly and the kids as much as anything.”

“I do realize that and I commend you for it.  But don’t forget that Molly is a mother, and mothers have instincts to protect their children.”

Brent gives up and pulls two white socks from his bag.  “Well, I’m a father and I have the same instincts.  All I’m saying is that Molly is bound to realize that in time.”

The phone rings, and Josh switches off the television before answering it.  Before he can pick it up, however, it stops ringing. 

“Right, well, we’d better get ready for Danielle’s gig,” he says with an indifferent shrug.  “I hope you brought something decent to wear.”  He cracks a smile and rifles through Brent’s duffel bag until he finds an old, wrinkled t-shirt.  “Unless this tie-dye number is how you show your support for our sister.”

Brent snaps the shirt away from him and shoves it back in the bag.  “I didn’t bring anything nice because I forgot about Open Mic Night.”  He shrugs and gestures with his hands.  “Excuse me for having other things on my mind.”

Josh rolls his eyes and heads back to his bedroom.  “I’ll get you a shirt.”

After he leaves, Brent pushes through the bag and withdraws a framed picture of him, Molly, and the twins.  He stares at it for a moment or two, wondering how they got to this place.  More importantly, he wonders if it really will blow over in a day or two.  


With Caleb home from the hospital, Molly Taylor finds it easy to keep busy.  And keeping busy means she doesn’t have to think about Brent every second of the day.  She already made the twins their dinner, did two loads of laundry, found a stack of Brent’s mismatched socks tucked away on the top shelf of the closet, cleaned up after dinner, read the newspaper, stared out the window for twenty minutes in lingering thought, picked up the phone to call Brent at Josh’s, hung up before anyone answered, fixed herself a cup of hot tea, and wondered if she’d been too hasty in asking him to leave. 

She convinces herself that a few passing moments of doubt are to be expected.  It doesn’t take long for those doubts to vanish and for her to be reminded of just what it was that prompted her to ask him to leave in the first place.  It is simply too dangerous to have him around their children while he continues with his investigation. 

Her thoughts are interrupted when Danielle Taylor floats in wearing a sunny yellow dress, her golden blonde tresses falling delicately over her bare shoulders.  

“Oh, that’s a pretty dress,” Molly says while hovering above her cup of tea.

Danielle smiles sheepishly.  “Thanks.  I splurged on it today.  I guess I thought if I looked good tonight I wouldn’t feel so embarrassed when I get booed off the stage.”

“Don’t be silly,” Molly says wryly with a wave of her hand.  “You’ll be fine.  Would you like some dinner before you leave?  The twins already ate and I’m not eating, but I can--”

“Oh, no,” Danielle cuts her off with a chuckle.  “I couldn’t eat a thing.  My stomach is in knots as it is.”

Awkward silence follows for a few unbearable minutes.  The dinner thing is all that Molly had prepared to say to her.  The new dress topic was just a stroke of luck.  But why should she feel awkward?  It’s her house and it’s her marriage.  It really has nothing to do with Danielle.  But still, she feels the need to say something about Brent. 

“Look, about Brent--” they say in unison. 

Danielle laughs.  “Sorry, go ahead.”

“No, you first.”

The words she planned to say now come reluctantly.  “It’s just that... well, I wanted you to know I really hope what’s going on with you and Brent doesn’t… you know…”  She finishes the sentence by gesturing back and forth between them with her hands, and Molly immediately picks up on her meaning.

“Exactly,” she says with a nod and a certain amount of relief.  “I mean, I get that you probably think I’m being melodramatic by asking him to leave, but I--”

“I think you’re trying to protect your family,” Danielle interrupts her.  “You don’t have to explain that to me.  Sometimes we have to do difficult things to protect our children.”

Molly was glad that she understood.  “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were a mother yourself.”

Danielle smiles weakly.  “I just know about sacrifice.”  She quickly changes the subject.  “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry for what Brent’s actions are doing to you and your family.”

“Thanks.  So no more awkwardness?”

“That sounds good,” Danielle says after taking a deep breath.  More so to steady her nerves about Open Mic Night than any discord between her brother and sister-in-law.  “Wow, I’m really nervous.  It’s weird.  Performing used to come so easy for me.  I guess it’s been longer than I realized.”

“You’ll be fine,” Molly says and sips her tea.  “So what are you singing, anyway?”

“A new song I wrote.”

“What’s it about?”

Danielle grows quiet, staring warily at the kitchen floor.  She would honestly love to be able to tell Molly exactly what the song is about and its literal meaning.  Short of coming out and saying, Oh, it’s just this song about the daughter I gave up for adoption, she doesn’t see a way to do that.  To Molly or to anyone.  She feels lonely and begins to miss Ryan and the way they confide in one another.  If he was here, he’d understand.

“Danielle?” Molly repeats.  “What’s the song about?”

She looks up and manages a faint smile.  “Oh, the usual.  The love that got away and all that sappy stuff.”


“The second paragraph can be eliminated altogether,” Diane Bishop says while attacking the page with a red pen.  “You already said the same thing back in chapter three.  It’s redundant.”

“Anything else?” Cassandra Ward asks with a roll of her eyes, as she offers a wary glance in Ryan Moriani’s direction.  

“As a matter of fact, yes,” Diane snaps, frosty pink lips pursed to oblivion.  “I don’t understand why you wait until three pages into chapter seven to--”

“Am I interrupting?” asks a voice from across the room.  

“Tim, hi,” Cassandra says with a smile when she sees him poke his head into the office.  She stands up, fumbles with the pages in her hands, and glances back at Diane.  “If you’ll excuse me, I need to talk to Tim about--”

Diane rolls her eyes with irritation.  “Ugghh.  Go, go, go,” she says hastily, shooing her to the door with her hands.  “It isn’t as if we’re getting anywhere, anyway.”

Ryan can’t help but smile as Cassandra leaves.  “What has gotten into you today?  You’re in rare form.”

Diane is oblivious to the remark, busying herself with clearing off her desk.   “Meaning?”

He decides to let it go, instead changing the subject to something more topical.  “So… I saw Danielle.”

“And?”  The reaction is laced with disinterest.

“I confronted her about the talk the two of you had the other day.  I told her that she made me feel like a child and that she was acting like I couldn’t take care of myself.”

Finally Diane looks up, her interest sufficiently piqued.  “And how did she respond?”

Ryan shakes his head in frustration, kicking back in the chair and balancing it on its back legs.  “She wants me to go to an AA meeting with her.”

“Tacky,” Diane gasps.  “She’s acting like Mayim Bialik and this is a very special episode of BlossomOf course you can take care of yourself, Ryan.  You’re a grown man.”

Having fully expected Diane’s reaction, Ryan sets his chair down on all four and paces across the room.  “Except I’m starting to think she might have a point.”

“What?” Diane asks while rising from her chair.  Her eyes follow him across the room.  “That’s lunacy.  We shared a few glasses of wine.  Did you wake up on a park bench again?  No.”

“There was a time when my drinking was out of control, Diane.  I’m always a drink away from going back to that place, and I can’t let that happen.  Not when somebody like Danielle is in my corner.  I don’t have a lot of people like that in my life, you know.”

“You don’t need Danielle or her homespun diagnoses.”

“I don’t know.  I just think I jumped the gun.”

Diane slaps her hands to her sides in resignation.  “Oh great.  So what is this?  You’re suddenly in agreement with Danielle that I’m the bad guy here?  I got you drunk and now you’re headed straight to AA?”

“You didn’t get me drunk,” Ryan says with a good-natured laugh.

“Oh, but I did,” Diane replies hastily.  She darts across the room with a flourish, pulling open the door and gesturing into the hall.  “You’d better leave before I tape a funnel to your mouth and pour a bottle of Stoli down your throat.”

“Diane…”  He didn’t expect her to react with such hostility.  “You’ve got this all wrong.  No one’s saying you’re to blame for anything.  All I said was that Danielle isn’t completely off on her assumptions.”

“Well, you know what they say about assumptions,” she says, returning to her desk and slipping into her chair. 

Ryan leaves with a certain amount of trepidation and the gut feeling that he should have stopped while he was ahead.  Her reaction only further cemented the sense that he did overreact to Danielle’s interference.  Maybe he was lucky to have her looking out for him. 


There is a crowd forming almost as fast as the lump in the back of Danielle’s throat.  She stares at the stage where she’ll soon be standing, guitar in hand, all eyes on her for three and a half excruciating minutes.  What if she’s lost whatever talent she once had?  What if she forgets the words?  Even worse, what if she chokes under the pressure?  The thoughts come fast and furious, and they come close to making her reconsider the whole idea of Open Mic Night.

“Are you okay?” Josh asks, picking up their order from the barista and handing Danielle and Brent their drinks.  “You look like you’re about to puke.”

Danielle turns to her brothers, unaware of the pale pistachio hue her skin has taken on.  “There are a lot of people here,” she says, eyes wide. 

“There better be.”  Brent sips his coffee and glances around the room.  “We called everyone we knew.”

“You what?” Danielle asks in a panic. 

“Relax,” Brent says with a smile and a nudge.  “You’re going to be great.  You’ve got talent coming out of your ears.  This is old hat for you.  You just need to be reminded of that.”

“He’s right,” Josh chimes in.  His eyes move across the room when Courtney, Lauren and Jason enter the coffeehouse.  “Listen, good luck.  I’ll see you in a bit.”

Danielle smiles and they exchange a brief hug.  When Josh darts off across the room, she turns to Brent and takes a deep breath.  

“I appreciate you being here,” she says.  “It means a lot to me.”

Brent digs his hands into his pockets and offers a vague smile.  “I wouldn’t be anywhere else.”

“How is it going at Josh’s?”

“It’s weird,” he replies matter-of-factly, then counters with his own question.  “How is it at home?  How is Molly?”

Danielle shifts awkwardly on her feet, momentarily forgetting about her unease over performing.  Instead she tries to choose her words carefully so as not to come across as though she is taking sides. 

“How do you think she is?” she asks with far more hostility than she intended.  By offering a faint smile, she hopes to squelch any hard feelings before they arise.  “She’s upset.”

Brent finds himself hopeful.  Not that Molly is upset but that she might be having second thoughts.  “Do you think she wants me to come home?”

Danielle raises an eyebrow and turns the cup around in her hand.  “Are you ready to drop this investigation?”

He folds his arms tightly across his chest and offers her a look as if to say, What do you think?

“Ok, so the answer is no, I don’t think she wants you to come home.  She’s afraid for your safety, and for your children’s safety.  Can you honestly blame her for that?”

Brent throws his hands up and shakes his head belligerently.  “Oh great, first Josh and now you, too.  I thought that my family would at least be on my side.”

“We are on your side,” Danielle exclaims.  “Josh knows know important this is to you, and so do I.  We know how much you’ve lost.  We know that you want answers.  But are you prepared for what it might cost you?”

“It doesn’t have to cost me anything.  If Molly trusted me, then--”

“It’s not that she doesn’t trust you,” Danielle says softly.  She takes his hand in hers and squeezes it tightly.  “You know this whole thing will go away if you just drop the investigation.  Molly will let it go and you’ll be a family again.”

“Do you think I should drop the investigation?” Brent asks after a few moments of hesitation. 

Danielle shakes her head sorrowfully.  “I can’t answer that for you.  You need to do what you feel is the right thing.”

Brent realizes that he is making the evening all about him, and that is the last thing he wants to do.  He decides to let it go for the time being. 

“Looks like they’re about to start,” he says and motions to the stage where the first singer is about to perform.  “You’re going to knock ‘em dead.  And you look beautiful.”

Danielle smiles when he pulls her into an embrace.

“I’ll second that,” says a voice from the end of the counter. 

Danielle pulls back and turns, eyes wide as she realizes it is Ryan standing there. 


Once they have settled into their booth, Lauren Brooks and Courtney Chase wait for Josh to tell them why he summoned them.  All he said earlier was that there was news on the Sabrina front.  When Jason Fisher returns from the restroom, Josh eyeballs him curiously. 

“I didn’t expect you to be here,” he says.   “I mean, you haven’t exactly been on board with our suspicions about Sabrina.”

He holds up his hands in surrender.  “I’m just here for Courtney.  Sabrina hasn’t exactly been civil to her, and I want to find out why.”

Josh turns his attention to Lauren.  “Oh no, was tonight your big date?” he asks with mock regret.  “With that douchebag photographer?”

Lauren rolls her eyes in amusement.  “No, it’s tomorrow night.  And Philip is not a douchebag.”

“Just don’t drink any colored liquids,” Courtney needles her with a grin.  “Club soda or water only.  We wouldn’t want you to have to fork over another week’s pay for ruining another one of his shirts.”

“Yeah, and who spends that kind of money on a shirt, anyway?” Josh continues, unable to let the subject go.  “A douchebag, that’s who.”

“Can we get to the point of this meeting?” Lauren asks with a good-natured laugh.  “What happened when you talked to Sabrina?”

“We didn’t get much of a chance to talk,” Josh says.  “She was… umm… otherwise occupied.”

“With what?” Jason asks, a myriad of possible scenarios running through his mind.  

Josh thinks about finding a tactful way to explain what he saw, but quickly realizes there probably isn’t one, so he blurts it out instead.  “A strap-on.”

The others remain silent for a second or two, all eyes on him as if waiting for a punch line.  Finally, Courtney pipes up.

“A what?”

“A strap-on?” Lauren asks in bewilderment.  “You walked in on her using a strap-on?  I don’t get it.”

“Well, that’s not the most unbelievable part,” Josh continues.  “There was someone else with her.”

“Who?” Jason asks. 


“Holy--” Lauren murmurs under her breath. 

“Sabrina was with Seth Ashby using a strap-on?” Jason asks for clarification.  “What the--”

Josh nods along with a knowing smirk.  “Obviously I had interrupted something between them,” he explains.  “She even went as far as to ask if I wanted to stay and join in.  I couldn’t believe it.”

“What did you do?” Courtney asks. 

“What could I do?” he shrugs, stifling a laugh from escaping his throat.  “I joined in.”

“Holy--” Lauren exclaims again.  “Josh, I--”

“I’m kidding!” he says with grin.  “I got the hell out of there as fast as I could.”

“God, I was about ready to slap the you-know-what out of you,” Lauren continues, letting out a deep breath and relaxing a little.

“So there you go.  This proves it,” Courtney remarks, shimmying out of her jacket and pushing it down onto the seat.  “Sabrina is a nutcase.”

“Why?” Jason asks with a frown.  “Because she, like most people, enjoys sex?  Because she uses… toys to spice things up?  That doesn’t make her a nutcase, Court, it makes her human.”

She levels a look of amusement on him.  “Is there something you want to tell me?” she asks.  “Or am I going to find a box of surprises in the closet one of these days?”

He sighs and shakes his head.  “No, but what might be unorthodox for some of us could very well be perfectly normal to someone else.”

“But what about this thing with Seth?” Lauren asks.  “Have you ever known them to be interested in each other?  Besides, I thought Seth was with Alex.”

“He wasn’t last night,” Josh decides.

“That woman is a troublemaker,” Lauren surmises.  “Who knows what kind of motivation she has for doing what she does.”

“Why does there have to be motivation?” Jason asks with irritation.

“I thought you were finally coming around to realize how sketchy she is,” Courtney says. 

“All I’m saying is that this dildo thing with Seth doesn’t make her a lunatic,” Jason replies defensively.  After a beat, he concedes with a nod of his head.  “But yes, I do agree that she’s sketchy.”

“Thank you,” Lauren says, slapping her hand on the table.  “Maybe there’s hope for you after all.”

Jason meets Courtney’s stare and realizes by the look in her eyes just how important this thing with Sabrina is to her.  He’s seen the hostility and the bitchiness that Sabrina directs toward her, and now can’t help but wonder where her shady sex life fits in.  The more he thinks about it, the more he questions how well he really knows his employee.


“This will only take a minute,” Cassandra says while unlocking the door to her room.  “I just have to change purses and we can go.  I hope you’re not too famished.”

“Take your time,” Tim replies as they enter the expansive hotel suite.  “Our reservations aren’t for another half-hour anyway.”

Cassandra pushes a lock of wavy black hair over her shoulder and flashes him an animated grin.  “I’m just happy that we finally made time to do this again.  Between all the time I’ve been putting in on Ryan’s book, and having to go to New York for that other project--”

“We’ll just have to pick up where we left off,” Tim says with a reassuring touch of his hand.   “I’ve really enjoyed the time we’ve spent together.”

“I have too,” she says happily.  She looks at her watch and notices the time.  “We’re going to be late.”

Tim acknowledges with a glance at his own watch. 

“Fix yourself a drink if you want.”  She gestures to the mini bar across the room before heading back to the bedroom.  “You probably think I’m ridiculous.  I mean, it’s just a purse, right?”

The corners of Tim’s mouth turn up and he finds himself laughing out loud.  Truthfully, he finds her charming.  “You’re fine.”

On his way to the bar, he looks around the meticulously decorated room.  He has always thought hotel rooms to be stale and cold, but Cassandra has managed to make it more of a home that displays her personal tastes.   Peppered throughout the room are photographs, knick knacks, books, and artwork. 

He drops two ice cubes into a short glass, followed by club soda, which fizzes to the rim.  Lifting the cold beverage to his mouth, he turns his attention to a framed photograph nestled on the middle shelf of a built-in wall cabinet.  The woman in the picture, an attractive, older African-American woman whom he supposes is in her fifties, looks astonishingly like Cassandra.  He sets down his drink and picks up the frame to get a closer look.  He guesses that the woman is Cassandra’s mother.

When he moves to replace the picture on the shelf, the frame slides out of his hand and begins its descent to the floor.  With lightning-fast instincts, Tim scrambles to prevent it from falling.  Relieved, he succeeds.  The frame’s wooden backing, however, pops out of its clasps and comes apart in his hands.  It is then that Tim realizes there are papers hidden behind the backing. 

Frowning, he unfolds them, realizing they are newspaper clippings.   A quick scan of the headline and lead paragraph alerts him to their horrific contents.  Woman Dies in Home Robbery, one headline read.  He glances through the rest, each depicting the same tragic events as the first.  Millicent Ward was pronounced dead by paramedics upon arrival at the woman’s home, stated one article.  Investigators say that Ward surprised the intruders upon entering the house, and that a gunshot wound to the chest was the probable cause of death...

Tim closes his eyes with regret, saddened by the obvious tragedy that has befallen Cassandra’s family.  The thought of her beautiful mother being gunned down in her own home is enough to make his eyes sting with the threat of tears. 

“What are you doing?” Cassandra asks when she comes back into the room and sees the news clippings in his hands.  “How did you--?”

Suddenly Tim is overcome with embarrassment.  He feels like he is invading her privacy.  Quickly, he begins reassembling the frame and tucking the articles back into their original spot. 

“I’m sorry.  I wasn’t snooping.  I just picked it up and it came apart.”  His words come fast and are tinged with remorse. 

“This is very private,” Cassandra laments.  She sets her purse on a chair and snatches the frame away from Tim.

Tim can see how upset she is, and feels powerless to fix it.  “I really am sorry.  It was an accident.  I wasn’t trying to be nosy.”

Once she has securely reattached the backing to the frame, she replaces it on the shelf and takes a deep breath.  A minute later she is calmer and has seemingly forgotten all about the incident.

“I didn’t mean to snap,” she says.  “I’m sorry.”

Tim shakes his head.  “Don’t be.  I shouldn’t have picked it up.”

Cassandra manages a faint smile and picks up her purse.  “We should get going if we’re going to make our reservations on time.”

“Right.”  Tim opens the door and follows her into the hall.  Before closing the door, he glances back at the shelf and the picture of Cassandra’s mother.  It is to be expected that she may not want to discuss what happened, particularly if it is recent--he can’t remember seeing a date on any of the clippings.  He only hopes that as they grow closer, she will open up to him.


“I didn’t think you would be here,” a surprised Danielle says to Ryan as he approaches her by the counter. 

“I know, and I’m sorry,” Ryan remarks sheepishly.  “For everything.  I shouldn’t have gone off on you like that.”

Danielle shakes her head in protest.  “No, I was out of line.  I thought I was helping, but I guess I went about it the wrong way.” 

Ryan takes her hand and looks into her eyes.  “You don’t have to make excuses for caring about someone.  It’s a big part of the reason I enjoy spending time with you.  Look, I know we have a lot to talk about, but I just wanted you to know that I want to make this work.  I think we have a shot.”

Danielle can’t help but smile with elation.  “Thank you for understanding.”  She feels his hand squeeze hers, and it is all the reassurance she needs.
“So are you ready for this?” he asks, motioning to the stage, where a young woman who looks like a hippie sings a melancholic tune. 

“It’s probably a lot like riding a bike,” she admits with an uneasy laugh.

“Well, I’m proud you for even thinking of taking that stage.  Not just because the song is about Elly and what you’ve been through with her, but because you haven’t done this in a while.  Even so, I think you’re going to be great.”

They turn to the girl presently on stage.  Her song reeks of torturous, angsty abandonment and reminds them of nails on a chalkboard.  Even the lyrics are difficult to swallow:

                                    Walking through the forest
                                    What do I see?
                                    A freshly fallen tree
                                    But how can it be?
                                    Oh, oh, when there was never a storm?
                                    How can it be-eeee?

They exchange glances and both manage to half-stifle their laughter.  It succeeds in lightening the mood and easing both of their discomfort over their recent argument.   Danielle feels suddenly more relaxed than she has all day. 

“I know what you’re thinking,” Ryan says with the workings on a smile forming on his lips.  “Yes, I paid her to go on before you.  After this you’ll probably get a standing ovation.”

Danielle laughs and hits him playfully on the arm.  Yes, she is suddenly at ease, and all thanks to Ryan.

“Looks like I’m up,” she says when the hippie chick finishes her tune. 

“Break a leg,” Ryan says and watches her head for the stage. 


Diane is still fuming long after she has left her office.  The fact that Ryan actually sided with Danielle got under her skin and made her want to scream at the top of her lungs.  Instead of calling her out on her interference and sticking to it, he wussed out and decided to look at it from her point of view.  Typical.  Leave it to a woman like Danielle to turn a man into a pushover. 

She decides to stop by Cassie’s for a coffee and immediately realizes she’s walked into the middle of Open Mic Night.  The place is practically standing room only.  She manages to maneuver her way to the counter where she orders a drink.  The announcer begins talking, most of which goes in one ear and out the other, until the next performer is announced: Danielle Taylor.  Immediately, Diane turns toward the stage with renewed interest.  The crowd applauds, and a string of caterwauls and whistles fills the room for far too long.

“Thank you,” Danielle says from her position behind the microphone.  “I’d like to sing a song tonight that I wrote.  It’s based on something painful in my life that I have recently had to come to terms with.  Needless to say, it’s very personal.  I hope that it inspires some of you to take your own problems and face them head on.”

More whistles and applause follow as Danielle begins the song.  Diane raises an eyebrow, curious as to what was so painful in Danielle’s past.  What could be so personal that she had to write a damn song about it?  The possibilities are endless, but too juicy to not act upon. 

Shoving a five dollar bill at the barista and taking her coffee, she sneaks to a corner of the room and fishes her cell phone from her purse.  She flips it open and pushes a few buttons until the video camera function is activated.  Holding it up and aiming it directly at Danielle, she records every second of the performance. 

“Let’s see if your song means as much to anyone else as it does to you,” Diane says aloud, a devious grin forming on her lips. 


What did you think of Andy’s take on Footprints?
What kind of trouble will Diane cause now?
Does Josh’s report prove anything about Sabrina?
Come discuss this episode in the Footprints Forum!

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