Chapter Four
The Cassadine family always sat down to their evening meal in the lavishly appointed Wyndemere dining room at 8:00PM sharp. Laura had quickly adopted the European custom of dining late soon after her marriage to Stefan, and dinner was always served on the finest bone china that was changed seasonally, four times per year. Ornate table centerpieces were ordered from the local florist and delivered daily on the last run of the floral van. At 4:00PM, the centerpieces would arrive. Some were heavenly concoctions richly composed of ten to fifteen layers of fruit – pears, apple, oranges, figs and cherries for accents, or exotic tropic paradises dripping with orchids and Hawaiian plumeria. The finest fragrant beeswax candles were lit in the antique silver candelabras that lined the room’s wood paneled walls, and the family dined by candlelight so that the crystal wineglasses twinkled with a romantic glow that picked up the burgandy or gold hue of the red or white wine served. A traditionally uniformed Irish maid served the meal courses. Mrs. Lansbury ran the house from 5:00AM to 4:00PM, but was too elderly to attend to duties at night. She usually retired to her servants quarters in the estate’s coach house on the far end of the property and spent evenings watching television and embroidering while consuming several glasses of sherry and soaking her feet.
Nikolas was carefully instructed in appropriate etiquette at a very young age. By the time he was six years old, he was allowed to dine with the adults, a badge of honor, signaling his entry into their world. As an untrainable toddler, he was relegated to eating his meals in the kitchen with the servants, so he was eager to learn proper manners. He had many childhood memories of finishing his dinner in a blinding rush so that he could stand at the kitchen door and open it a crack to peep at his mother and father, so beautiful in their evening clothes and so happy with their tinkling laughter and occasional handholding and pecks on the cheeks or lips. Stefan often joked that Laura was becoming more European than he was with her careful observance of age-old aristocratic customs. "We lost our beautiful young American girl on the island, but gained a grand European lady," he would say as his held a gentle hand to her chin, and Laura would look into his sparkling eyes and blush with pleasure.
Privately, Stefan had first shared a joke with his son when Nikolas was eleven years old. Laura had returned from another one of her marathon European shopping expeditions with so many boxes that it took the servants days to unpack them and sort through the purchased items – including everything from a Russian Faberge egg supposedly stolen by Rasputin to the childhood chamber pot of James I of England. Stefan had pulled a curious Nikolas aside and said, "Your mother loves to shop more than Jacqueline Onassis. Jackie O, that’s my nickname for her." Nikolas laughed and smiled broadly at his father. Nikolas never understood his mother’s preoccupation with possessions, but he had met Jackie and knew of her reputation. He looked into his father’s smiling green eyes and laughed again with a mischievous hand covering his mouth, but stopped when Stefan laid a gentle hand on his shoulder and held an index finger to his lips as he shook his head slightly.
Personally, Stefan had been very happy to live in the United States for the last thirteen years and even acquired a dual citizenship to complement his Greek origins. He enjoyed the more relaxed social and business climates, but he allowed his wife to run their household as she wished - it was no matter to him. Stefan lived for business and thrived in a world of fast-paced competition, mergers and last minute deals made behind closed doors. When Helena had died thirteen years earlier, it had been his far-reaching suggestion to disband the traditional Cassadine Empire with its stuffy hierarchy and rules of inheritance and power in favor of a more modern, streamlined corporate approach to power and management. Stefan essentially was CEO of Cassadine, Incorporated with a Board of Directors representing scattered Cassadines across four continents. Under this system, the financial holdings of the family had tripled in five years and increased cooperation had reduced the number of familial murders appreciably. Cassadines were assigned numbers of votes and shares of stock based upon their former status in the family, and the estate executives were elected every six years. Stefan was greatly admired for the stability he brought to the family and their fortunes, and he was unanimously voted in as CEO in each election.
Nikolas knew that under the old system, his father was a Prince, and that upon his death, Nikolas should be the Prince except for one small detail. Nikolas was illegitimate. The fact that his parents had married when he was four years old was not a consideration. The circumstances of his birth foretold all. Stefan still called Nikolas "prince" sometimes as an affectionate term for his beloved son, but Nikolas knew down to the very marrow in his bones that he was no prince. Growing up as a small child on the island, he had endured the teasing of endless cousins about his true status. His mother didn’t even live with them. His grandmother had only allowed her to come for his birthday, Christmas and one week in the summer. Helena had threatened to kill Nikolas if Stefan married that low-class, commoner Laura or allowed her to see her son other than on scheduled visits, so Nikolas never got to know his mother until he was almost five. She had been like a wistful dream to him, a fairy queen with her beautiful long blond hair and bright, white smile. He cherished the albums of photos that his father had collected and bound for his son. After awhile, his mother was never photographed without her infant son, an angelic looking blond boy with brilliant blue eyes and a wide, toothless grin. Nikolas remembered feeling jealous of that baby, contentedly nestled in his mother’s arms. But, the day soon came when the baby died and was never photographed again.
Nikolas loved to hear the story of how his parents met and fell in love. It was a whirlwind romance set against the romantic backdrop of sunny Greece. Laura was travelling on a summer long European vacation with her mother and stepfather as a gift for her high school graduation. At age eighteen, Laura was full of life, happy and excited to visit so many wonderful European cities. Athens was on the last leg of her continental trip, and they were spending a week there. Laura was stretching her wings and feeling like she wanted to explore on her own. Rick and Lesley were anxious for some private downtime and didn’t protest much when their daughter asked to spend some days alone, exploring the ruins and museums. As she wandered through the Acropolis, Laura grew dreamy as she gazed at the small, puffy white clouds so beautiful and fluffy in the brilliant Mediterranean blue sky. Laura tripped up a step and was assisted by a young blond university student seated and leaning against a column, nose deep in an ancient Greek text until the young American girl almost fell into his lap. Stefan offered to give Laura a walking tour of the ancient site, and Laura immediately fell in love with his charm, wit and piercing green eyes. Soon, the two began walking hand in hand through the streets of Athens, old souls finally meeting their mates, fate determined after only an hour’s time. As they stopped in front of Laura’s hotel, Stefan ran a gentle hand over Laura’s cheek and murmured a French endearment into her ear. She laughed lightly and nearly gasped as he leaned in to capture her lips in a soft, tender kiss. Stefan looked into her eyes as he ran his thumb tentatively over her reddened lips and asked if he could see her tomorrow. Laura filled with warmth and excitement and promptly nodded yes. "I’ll see you at 9:00AM then," replied Stefan as he took Laura’s hand and kissed it. "Until then."
And so Laura had conceived Nikolas on her Greek holiday. When she later informed Stefan of her condition in a carefully phrased letter, he insisted that she fly to his island home immediately to meet his family and to determine a course of action. Once on the island, Helena had insisted that Laura stay there so that her child could be born a Greek citizen. "Surely, you can understand how this family values tradition," Helena had commented frequently as she smiled at the girl. Laura had agreed to stay on the island, enchanted by Helena’s gracious, aristocratic manner and Stefan’s ardent love for her. Stefan had promised to marry her, but she became puzzled at why the arrangements were never made. Loud arguments between Stefan and Helena became daily behind closed doors occurrences. Everything changed for the worse after the birth. Helena grew demanding, cold and distant, and Stefan grew increasingly fearful of his mother’s threatened actions against the child and his mother. Laura had sobbed brokenheartedly as she left her child and boarded the plane to the United States. Stefan had underestimated his mother’s arrogance and determination, and all was lost. At the top stair of the plane, she turned when she heard her name called. "Laura!" shouted Stefan. "We will return to you!" Laura’s eyes filled with tears at the sight of Stefan holding her beloved baby Nikolas in his arms, and she climbed into the plane’s interior. Years later, Helena finally died of a stroke, and Stefan wasted no time in seizing control of his new life.
~*~*~*~
After dinner, Stefan and Laura retired to their private chambers to spend a quiet evening, and Nikolas left the house for the stables. Nikolas paused and looked into the stables as he stood silently at the doorway. Wyndemere’s riding stables were immaculate, in part due to the staff that tended the horses, but also because of Nikolas’ caring and attention. Nikolas visited the stables at least twice a day, rolling up his sleeves and mucking out Sheba’s stall and hauling in fresh, sweet hay for his mare. The horse sensed Nikolas’ presence in the doorway and whinnied lowly. She adored her master and relished the lavish attention that he gave to her. She was brushed and rubbed down several times daily, even if Nikolas was not able to ride her. Nikolas always carried bits of apple or carrot from the Wyndemere kitchen to bring to Sheba, and the horse gratefully accepted the offered treats from his open hand. Nikolas talked gently to the horse, whispering to her and asking her how her day went. He stroked and kissed her nose, and then told her about his day. The horse blinked her large brown eyes at Nikolas, fluttering her gorgeous eyelashes and listening to the soothing rise and fall of her master’s voice.
"We won’t be visiting the island on spring break like we usually do," Nikolas said sadly. "Mother is almost due, and she doesn’t want to travel until the baby arrives." Nikolas sighed. "I miss my cousins. I want to walk on the beach and collect seashells. I want to tease Athena about all of her boyfriends." Nikolas continued to rub and stroke the magnificent black horse. "I don’t have any friends here in America," he confided to her. "At the high school, everyone talks to me and wants to hang around, but I’m never sure if they’re interested in my family’s money or in me." Nikolas wiped away a stray tear that meandered down his cheek. People were always asking him to lunch or to go places, but once they arrived, they would ask Nikolas to pay, or sometimes stare at him and remain silent when the bill came. So, he joked around with the jocks and let the girls follow him, but he opened up to no one, unsure of issues such as trust and loyalty. It seemed like his loneliness was only broken up by the family’s frequent trips to Greece. But, now, they wouldn’t be going for awhile. Nikolas had begged to go by himself, but he was not allowed. Stefan was very careful and cautious with his son, ever vigilant for the threat of kidnappers and renegade Cassadines running amok.
But, Nikolas had one last person that he could turn to – his Aunt Alexis. Maybe she would visit the island with him. Alexis was very busy with her thriving law practice, but she always made time for her nephew. She took him out to dinner every other week, usually on a Thursday evening. During their nights out, Nikolas talked a mile a minute and relaxed. Alexis always laughed at his silly jokes and encouraged him when he was down about a class at school or a soccer injury.
"I’ll see you tomorrow morning," Nikolas promised his horse before departing the stables. "We’ll have a nice long ride before school. How’s that? I love you, Sheba. Be a good girl."
~*~*~*~
"You’re my last customer for the night," sighed Ruby as she placed the cheeseburger platter in front of Frankie. "Mind if I sit down and rest these sore feet of mine?" Frankie looked up from his schoolbook and shook his head. He moved the other books and papers out of her way.
"How was your first day of school?" asked Ruby. She laughed when she caught sight of Frankie’s agonized expression. "That bad? Aww, tomorrow will be better. You’ll see." Frankie shrugged and looked down at his plate, moving a French fry with one finger. "You need some ketchup for those," announced Ruby as she rose from the table. "Sit tight, help is on its way." Frankie made a slight smile. He liked this older lady. She was cool. Frankie had never been around any older women. The casinos hired only young, beautiful women for their waitresses and showgirls, and Frank never had women around the house.
"Where’s your uncle?" asked Ruby as she handed Frankie a Heinz 57 bottle. "Shake it hard first," she instructed. "It’s a new bottle."
Frankie glanced at Ruby. "Johnny’s on business," he stated matter-of-factly. "He’ll be back soon."
Ruby raised her eyebrow. "Is that how you refer to your uncle?" she questioned. "By his first name? That’s different."
Frankie froze with a French fry hovering near his mouth. Damn, he thought. I’ve got to be more careful. I can’t relax for a second or I might slip up. "Uncle Johnny," he corrected himself. "Sometimes I forget." Frankie continued eating, enjoying the homemade burger. "This is really good," he complimented Ruby.
"Why thank you," replied Ruby, charmed by Frankie’s manner. "So what’s your favorite class so far?" she asked, pointing at the books.
"Hard to tell, but I’m into this astronomy," Frankie replied, patting the book beside him. "I never studied anything like that. It’s cool. And they have this big room at the school, where they turn out the lights and you can see stars." His eyes lit up and danced merrily.
Ruby smiled. "I believe they call it a planetarium," she said.
Frankie jumped slightly in his seat and grinned. "Yeah, that’s what they called it," he exclaimed, slapping the table beside his plate with his palm.
A wave of déjà vu lightly floated through Ruby’s mind, and her heart felt funny as she looked into Frankie’s brilliant blue eyes. There it is again, she thought to herself. He seems so familiar. I can’t seem to shake this feeling.
"Are you related to anybody named Spencer in Philadelphia by any chance?" she asked curiously. "Because you sure seem to remind me of someone," she said.
Frankie shifted uneasily in his seat. "No," he replied flatly as he took a large bite out of his cheeseburger. Where’s Johnny? he wondered as he ran his hand over his waistband, checking to make sure that his gun was still there. He surreptitiously darted his eyes toward the door.
"Well, kiddo," stated Ruby. "I’m going to put the Closed sign on the door. It’s almost 8:30," she sighed. "We close at 8:00."
Frankie jumped out of his seat. "What?" he yelled with a mouth full of food. His eyes bugged out, and he looked frantic. "Where’s my phone? Where’s my phone?" he asked himself out loud as he pushed books and papers out of his way.
Ruby grew concerned as she watched Frankie’s reaction and the tears that started making the boy’s eyes shiny. "Do you need to use the phone?" she asked. "There’s one by the cash register. That’s fine to use if you make a local call."
"No!" Frankie exclaimed quickly. "I gotta use my cell." Frankie’s mind raced as he recalled the complex code that Frank had developed to prevent interception.
"Is this it?" asked Ruby, holding out a small black cell phone that had fallen on the floor next to Frankie’s chair.
Frankie’s face relaxed so quickly that it appeared to drop several inches. "Thanks," he breathed, taking the phone from her hand. "Dinner was great, can you put it on my tab?" he pleaded.
"Sure," said Ruby puzzledly as she watched the kid race for the stairs, leaving his cheeseburger and books lying on the table.
~*~*~*~
Frankie’s hand trembled as he held the cell phone and sat on his bed in his room. He had to re-enter the code several times because he couldn’t concentrate in his anxiety over the missed phone call. Frank had ordered him to call in at 8:00PM promptly every evening, no matter what. It was now 8:45, and Frankie now dreaded making the call. Obedience was Frank’s demand, and those who didn’t obey paid the consequences. Frankie was determined to pull off this mission, and he didn’t want to be called home in disgrace.
"Yes?" the gritty voice commanded.
"Frank, it’s me, Frankie. Look, I…"
"What time is it there in Port Charles?" the voice replied in an oily, sarcastic tone. "Are they on a different time zone?"
"No," Frankie’s voice shook.
"It’s 8:51PM Eastern Standard Time," Frank said. "Why did you not obey my order?"
"I was eating, and I got distracted, it won’t happen again – ever, I promise," Frankie spat out in staccato syllables.
"Distractions mean lost time and lost lives," responded Frank breezily. "Shall I pull you off the mission? Maybe you’d rather supervise the slot machines instead. Is that what you want?"
"No," Frankie’s small voice replied. "No more distractions, I promise." A drop of sweat rolled from his forehead to his eye, and he fiercely swatted it away as his stomach gripped in fear.
"Have you visited Luke Spencer yet?" asked Frank, changing the subject and segueing into the business at hand.
"No. I’ve been reviewing his file, and I had a run-in with him when I first came to town yesterday," replied Frankie.
"What kind of a run-in?" questioned Frank.
"He put his hands all over my car and got into my face asking if I was from out of town," explained Frankie. "I put him in his place," he added. "A real fucking cowboy, that’s him. I took away his spurs."
Frank smiled. "Pay Mr. Spencer a visit tonight and let him know our expectations," he commanded. "Take Johnny with you. Show him some muscle."
"With pleasure," grinned Frankie, eager to get on with business and forget his earlier mistake.
~*~*~*~
"Johhny, where the hell ya been?" asked Frankie crossly as his bodyguard entered his room carrying a large brown paper bag.
"I was out buying you the beer that you asked me to pick up for you," stated Johnny calmly. "What’s up, boss?"
"We have work to do tonight," stated Frankie tersely as he sniffed and cracked his knuckles. "We need to pay someone a late night visit, show him who’s boss. Now give me those beers and scram. Meet me back here in an hour."
~*~*~*~
Frank reached across his desk and lifted the carved, wooden lid of his personal humidor. He selected his favorite brand of Cuban cigar and trimmed off the bottom tip. He lit the cigar and puffed on it contentedly. Things had worked out so much better than he’d originally planned when he’d first abducted the boy fourteen years ago. At first, it had been simple revenge, a way to get back at his enemy by taking away what was most important to him. But Frank quickly noticed that Lucky Spencer was an intelligent, moldable child, someone who Frank could create in his own image. Frank had been fifty-two years old then with no son to take over the business. Frank had no use for a close relationship with a female, preferring instead, to keep a stable of available prostitutes to use when the need arose. He discovered that he had a ready-made son on his hands, a trainable, capable child. Emotions like love were useless to a hardened criminal like Frank. His heart had shriveled up and disappeared decades ago. All Frank lived for was money and ever-increasing power. It was an addiction that suited him to a tee. But, in time he grew fond of his pseudo-son. Even Frank couldn’t control nature, and he found himself mellowing slightly as the years passed, like all men did after the age of fifty or so. And so, Frank had set about creating the perfect successor, a Frank Junior for all intents and purposes. Frankie was his creation, and he felt like he could claim every hair on the kid’s head. A highly successful mission and a new hub in the criminal network would secure Frankie’s position in the organization and command respect. Lately, Frank had worried about the loyalty of some of his higher-ranking officers. He detected that they were suspicious of his ability to control the organization at the advanced age of sixty-six. But Frankie’s aggressive youth would serve its purpose and maintain the control and balance of power that Frank needed. A man was truly the sum of his environment. Frankie would bring Luke Spencer and all of Port Charles to their knees. Frank had no doubt about that.
~*~*~*~
Sly lay back in his twin bed and stared at the ceiling. He’d been lying in bed for about an hour, and his eyes grew used to the dark so that he could make out the shapes of all the furniture, lamps and decorations in the room. Sometimes, the time he spent in bed, right before he went to sleep was Sly’s favorite part of the day. There were no pressures from school, no questions to answer, no demands that he talk or be witty. Sly liked to review his life and make plans for his future, to consider how his day might unfold tomorrow when he woke up. Technically, Sly was staying in his Aunt Bobbie’s guestroom, but it seemed like his personal space. He had helped Bobbie paint the room, and she took him to the store with her to help her choose the bed linens and drapes. Sly liked the sage green color of the walls and the botanical print of the linens. It made him feel like he was surrounded by scenes of nature, almost like camping outside in the calm serenity of the woods. Sly helped his aunt out around the brownstone, doing the dirty work of cleaning out the basement, trapping the occasional wayward mouse, pruning tree limbs, planting bulbs, stripping wallpaper or painting. Sly glowed as he recalled Bobbie hugging him and saying, "You’re my best helper. I couldn’t ask for a better worker." Bobbie paid him a weekly allowance. Even when he lived with Luke, he still took out her trash and completed any odd handyman jobs that she needed. Bobbie was divorced and lived alone as a single mother to her young son, so Sly was happy to help.
Tonight, most of Sly’s thoughts were directed toward his relationship with his Uncle Luke. Sly knew that Luke had drastically altered his lifestyle when Sly came to live with him. When Sly first arrived, there were constant reminders of various women all over the house – the box of tampons in the bathroom cabinet under the sink, lacey bras that would mysteriously emerge from under the couch when someone ran the vacuum. Bottles of perfume could be found on top of furniture in the living room, and small portrait photos of women were stuffed into the top drawer of the desk. Soon, the women stopped coming by the house at night, shooed away by Luke’s fierce whispers and apologies. Sly didn’t think that Luke missed those girls too much. Luke was crazy about Alexis. Anyone could tell that. Sly sank down further into his covers and smiled. He liked Alexis, she was cool. Alexis always sent him cards on his birthday and all the holidays, even St. Patrick’s Day. Occasionally, she took him with her on day trips to the zoo or to interesting exhibits at the Natural History Museum. She knew that he loved nature and anything wild and natural. But, Sly never did anything with Luke and Alexis where they were all together. Their need for secrecy was a mystery that was beyond Sly’s fourteen-year-old mind. Still, he wondered.
Sly’s thoughts turned toward his allowance and the gift that he was planning to buy Luke. Sly realized that he’d held Luke at a distance after Sly moved in with him. Physically, Luke reminded Sly so much of his father, Bill. The similarities in speech, mannerisms and behavior spooked him a bit. And, subconsciously, he was afraid of losing his uncle as he had the rest of his family. Sly used to have nightmares where he’d come home from school and find Luke drowning in a pool of his own blood. But, it was time that Sly showed Luke just how much he cared about his uncle. Sly turned over on his side and smiled. Luke was planning on taking Sly on an all-day fishing trip next week, and Sly was going to buy him the best, most beautiful fishing rod that money could buy. He’d already checked at the outdoor sports recreation store, and had the fishing rod in layaway. Seventy-five dollars it cost. Sly had saved up sixty-five dollars already and tomorrow his aunt would give him his $10 allowance. Yes, tomorrow would be the big day. He couldn’t wait. Sly closed his eyes and smiled as he fell fast asleep.