Favorite excerpts from MissJr's "Shattered Dreams"

[lalogan]

Although I find all of MissJr's "Shattered Dreams: A Bricky Tale" wonderful, I think the most delicious part is the confrontation between Pigget and Satanie -- watching those two hateful harpies tear each other to shreds, especially in light of how much crap they've been allowed to get away with on the show, never fails to bring a smile to my face. So I've decided to cut and paste all the excerpts so they read like one fanfic.

For the uninitiated, the fic begins the day after Brooke discovered Ugly N. Stupid and Pigget tonguing each other and swearing their undying love to each other, just minutes before GarBridge's wedding. On the show, Brooke called off the wedding. But MissJr chose to build on that, and make the pervs, Ugly and Pigget, really be held accountable for their sicko actions.

Also, in this fic, MissJr makes Eric actually possess a spine, and throw Satanie's nasty, slutty ass out after discovering her 40-plus-year deception regarding Ugly N. Stupid's paternity. Also, she writes the various other characters -- Katie, Kristin, Felicia -- as they really are, undoing all the ways DumbBell has screwed them up.

Anyway, here, without further ado, is the confrontation between Satanie and Pigget:

_______________

Stephanie's mouth formed into a round "O" of surprise as she looked through the paned glass of the front door. Horrified, she angrily flung the door open and glowered at her visitor.

"May I help you?" She asked disdainfully as if she were speaking to an annoying door-to-door peddler.

Bridget merely looked Stephanie up and down, nonplussed by her attitude. "I'm here to check on the children—and Ridge," she responded haughtily as she attempted to enter the house. However, Stephanie deftly blocked her entrance and refused to budge.

"And Ridge? Honey, you are just way too transparent." Stephanie coolly observed as she took in Bridget's sexed-up appearance. "Well, little girl, I'm sorry to disappoint you but Ridge isn't here right now. So I'm afraid you tarted yourself up for nothing! I would strongly suggest you turn right around, get back in your car and go home!"

"Excuse me but do you actually LIVE here now?" Bridget rudely demanded, thinking that Stephanie had some nerve. Who did the bitch think she was?!

"As a matter of fact, I do live here." Stephanie smugly replied.

Bridget audibly gasped as this bit of news clearly took her by surprise. However, her surprise turned into determination. She was not about to let this old buffalo bulldoze over her.

"Well, the last time I checked, this was Ridge's house and YOU had a home of your own!" Bridget cheekily spoke up.

"My son needs me. You have brought nothing but confusion into his life, and I won't stand by anymore and allow it."

"Confusion? But, I—I—never—" Bridget sputtered as she attempted to deny Stephanie's accusation. However, her antagonist was having none of it and immediately cut her off.

"Yes—confusion! There is nothing more natural than a sister helping her brother and his family out during a crisis, and for that, you are to be commended. But, you couldn't stop there, could you? No! Instead you took advantage of Ridge's grief," Stephanie accused as Bridget's eyes widened in shock. "Well, don't think I don't know what you've been up to. It is nasty and it is WRONG! It ends NOW—today. Do you understand me? TODAY! Go somewhere and get a man of your own—preferably someone your own age and one who isn't related to you. There is, nor can there ever be, NOTHING between you and Ridge. Do you hear me? I will NOT have that kind of perversion around those children!"

"Well, you hear me!" Bridget stated as she boldly stepped to Stephanie, taking the older woman by surprise as she was forced to retreat slightly or get knocked down. "My brother told me that I am ALWAYS welcome in this house, and unless he personally tells me otherwise, that will always be the case. And, once and for all, get it straight. Ridge and I are NOT related so there is nothing perverted about what happened!"

Stephanie managed to recover from her initial astonishment. Her astonishment then turned into amusement. Could the girl really be that stupid and that daft, she wondered. No longer able to contain herself, she laughed out loud, a cackling crone's laugh that humiliated Bridget.

"Oh my God! Do you even hear yourself?" she jeered. "You sound like a complete fool!"

"Don't you dare laugh at me!" Bridget hissed.

"And, don't you get on your high horse with me!" Stephanie warned. "You are truly one sick, delusional little girl. Do you have ANY idea how ridiculous you sound right now? One minute, you're referring to Ridge as your brother. Yet, in the next breath you're attempting to 'straighten me out' by claiming you're not related just so you can justify your sick lusts!"

Mortified by her slip of tongue, Bridget was speechless. Her mortification then turned into frustration. Frustration because her plans were being thwarted. Frustration that she had been caught in yet another of the contradictions and lies that inevitably arose whenever she or Ridge attempted to explain the unthinkable. Frustration because this woman could see right through her and stood in the way of what she wanted. Bridget's frustration gave way to anger, an unreasoning anger that made her want to hurt this demented old bat because she had hurt her. This caused Bridget to lash out and say the very first thing that came to her mind.

"Oh, GROW UP!" Bridget snarled like a rabid animal, baring her teeth. "You know exactly what I meant!"

"YOU grow up!" Stephanie yelled. She was getting well and truly fed up with this girl's impudence. "No, I DON'T know exactly what you meant. But, I am going to tell you the way it is. This relationship you THINK you're having with Ridge only exists in your head! Now, I'm not going to tell you again. You are NOT welcome here! I don't want you around Ridge, and I don't want you around those children. In fact, I want you out of this house!" Stephanie said firmly, grabbing Bridget's right arm and trying to force her out the door.

If Stephanie had been surprised before by Bridget's cheek, she was even more shocked as Bridget yanked her arm out of her grasp. Bridget then angrily slapped Stephanie's hand away from her, a move that outraged Stephanie.

"Get your hands OFF of me!" Bridget shouted. "Now, listen up because I'm going to tell YOU how it is!" Bridget yelled as she pointed her index finger in a shocked Stephanie's face. "Just where do you get off talking to me like that? Putting your hands on me? Old woman, you've got the whole game twisted! Obviously, you didn't hear me the first time when I told you I'm not going anywhere. Well, here's a newsflash. I'm not my mother! Got it? You might have beaten her down and worn her out until you finally got her out of Ridge's life. Well, guess what old woman ... you're NOT getting rid of me that easily!"

"Little girl, you've got five seconds to get that finger out of my face or else!" Stephanie warned.

"Or else what?" A defiant Bridget demanded. "What are you going to do?"

Stephanie's cornflower blue eyes glittered dangerously and she took a step toward Bridget. "Or else I'll snatch you bald, slap you into next Tuesday AND I'll shove that finger so far up a particular orifice of your body that you won't be able to sit down for a MONTH!" Stephanie sneered.

A shocked Bridget hesitated barely a second. She could take this old buffalo on, she thought. However, she remembered the whispered stories from her childhood that no one in the family dared to discuss openly—stories about physical assaults and other vicious acts. Would the woman actually strike her? She had no doubt that a physical confrontation would be brutal. If she and the hag got into it, who would actually win? Did she really want to chance it? In the end, self-preservation won out over pride. Bridget slowly lowered her index finger and glowered at Stephanie.

"You are evil!" Bridget yelled.

"No, Bridget. I'm not evil—just a mother and grandmother determined to protect her family at all costs!"

"This isn't even YOUR house! It's Ridge's, and he said—"

"I don't CARE what Ridge said! I should have known that woman's evil and nastiness would corrupt you sooner or later. Such wickedness I've never seen! Trying to convince Ridge that you're the perfect woman for him. Confusing those children and trying to convince them that you should be their mother. Making a shameless spectacle of yourself at the wedding yesterday!"

"How many times do I have to explain this?" Bridget yelled in frustration. "Read my lips. We are not related!"

"And you read my lips. Ridge doesn't want you." Stephanie replied.

"Where did Ridge go anyway?" Bridget snapped in irritation, ignoring Stephanie's claim. Why did the woman keep lying like this, she wondered.

"What do you care? I thought you were here to check on the children?" Stephanie shrewdly reminded Bridget, who was fit to be tied by now.

"I am!"

"Sure you are," Stephanie chuckled. "In answer to your question, Ridge has gone off to find your mother to convince her to give him another chance."

A disbelieving Bridget's stomach lurched. "You lie!"

"You could at least pretend to be supportive of Ridge's choice."

"Oh, like you are!"

"I don't need to pretend. See, that's the difference between you and me. Everybody knows where I stand. There's no way in the world I would have given Brooke and Ridge my blessing, stood up for them and then tried to snag the groom for myself. You did all that and had the nerve to act outraged after the wedding was aborted."

"I was outraged! I couldn't believe what was happening. The last thing I wanted was for my mother to think I ruined her wedding on purpose."

"So it's all about you then?" Stephanie asked mockingly.

"THAT'S not what I said!" Bridget hotly denied.

"No, that is exactly what you said. I was there, remember? You weren't that concerned about hurting your mother. You were more concerned about what people would think about your role in it. You put on your tight dress and gobs of lip gloss to, as you say, check on the children and Ridge. In the little bit of time you've been here, not ONCE did you express any concern for your mother! In fact, you were more upset about Ridge chasing after her. Now, what were you saying about being outraged yesterday?"

"Go to HELL!" An angry Bridget screamed as her face became mottled.

"Little girl—I vacation there!" Stephanie retorted with a wintry smile.

Bridget visibly shrank in fear. Was her mind playing tricks on her, or did Stephanie just literally sprout a set of horns and a tail? Or were those snakes she saw writhing from Stephanie's scalp? Only a fiend from the very bowels of hell itself would actually brag about vacationing there, Bridget thought. Bridget shook her head as if she was clearing her vision. Instead of a demon or a Gorgon, Bridget saw a face that was open and amazingly honest in its expressions. The eyes were cunning and the mouth was curled into a smile that could only be described as mocking. How she itched to slap that smile off the witch's face! However, that impulse was greatly tempered by some good old-fashioned common sense.

"There is something seriously wrong with you," Bridget breathlessly remarked. "I didn't think it was possible, but you are the sickest and most demented person I've ever met in my entire life!"

"Your entire life?" Stephanie laughed. "And exactly how old are you again?"

"I—"

"SHUT UP!" Stephanie abruptly barked. "I'm simply tired of this argument and I'm tired of you! As far as I'm concerned, Ridge is a non-issue where you're concerned. Period. End of discussion—OVER!" Stephanie yelled, raising her hand and making a slashing gesture.

"How dare you?" An outraged Bridget gasped. "Ridge is going to hear about this!"

"When? Before or after he returns from his honeymoon?" Stephanie maliciously smirked.

"I don't believe you," Bridget said pitifully.

"And I don't believe you. You really get off on being the victim, don't you?"

"I AM the victim!" Bridget shrieked. "My mother SLEPT with my husband and had his baby! Then to add insult to injury, she acts as if I'm supposed to be pleased by her little blessed event."

"Lower your voice," Stephanie muttered. "Those children don't need to overhear you down hear making all this noise."

"Why shouldn't they overhear it?" An emboldened Bridget demanded, her eyes blazing. Convinced of the rightness of her cause, she continued. "They have been fooled and bamboozled long enough. They actually believe that Mom will be a good mother to them, and Ridge thinks she'll be a good influence on them. Well I know better. And don't even get me started on Hope!"

"As much as it kills me, Bridget, those children happen to love Brooke and they adore Hope—or at least the girls do. That child didn't pick the circumstances of her birth. Nor, did she have any control over the selfish actions of her parents."

"So, what are you saying? That I'm just supposed to accept this?"

"What I'm saying is that those children have been through enough as it is without Ridge having to explain how Hope happens to have one, two or maybe three daddies!" Stephanie sarcastically commented.

"Humph! Well, I could tell them horror stories about how all of this got started!" Bridget sniffed.

"How all this got started? I see. So that means you'll give them the full story then—including your and your brother's roles in this mess?"

"MY ROLE?!" Bridget screamed in disbelief. "What did I do?" She asked, conveniently ignoring Stephanie's mentioning of Rick.

"You would have the unmitigated gall to stand there and ask me that?" Stephanie derisively demanded, as she looked Bridget up and down with utter disdain. "Your ROLE, little girl, is this. No—let me rephrase that. This mess started with your brother! HE was the one who brought that piece of trash, Deacon, into our family's lives. HE was the one who dug him up from the rock he was living under just so that he could BUY a baby!"

"One that you were more than happy to pay good money for!" Bridget cheekily reminded Stephanie. As was her wont, however, Stephanie ignored Bridget's comment, which hit a little too closely to home. Instead, she redoubled her verbal attack on the girl and came at her with both guns blazing.

"And what did you do?" Stephanie sneered, getting in Bridget's face close enough for the girl to see into her nostrils. "You sneak out on a date behind your mother's back and the next thing we all knew, you invited that trash to your brother's wedding. In fact, you practically snuck him in and chose NOT to tell anyone who he was! Then you had the nerve to act all 'surprised' when your father and brothers objected and wanted to put his ass out. How could you not have known that when you hid the identity of your 'mystery date' that there wouldn't have been some drama?"

"Don't you TALK to me like that!"

"I'll talk to you like THAT and any other way I like!" Stephanie retorted, the spittle practically flying out of her mouth. "You need to hear this because no one else in your family is going to speak this candidly to you, and probably never has. You have shamelessly blamed your father and mother for decisions that YOU chose to make with your eyes wide open. They sat back and let you get away with it because of the guilt trip you laid on them. Well, let me tell you something, missy, I don't want to hear it anymore! YOU are the one who snuck your fast ass to Las Vegas to marry a stranger after—what—one or two dates! Who the hell does that, Bridget?"

Stephanie only received a stony glare, pursed lips and a pair of folded arms in response to her question. Undaunted, she continued. "Oh, but you did manage to pick up the phone and call your parents so I guess you deserve some credit for thinking of someone other than yourself. I happen to know for a fact that Eric and Brooke both begged you to return home and not to do anything foolish. They both knew that Deacon was only using you, but what did you do? You married him anyway and then came back home to drop this bombshell on them. Married, still in high school, and hadn't even taken your finals or attended your prom yet."

For the second time that day, tears began to pool in Bridget's eyes. First CJ; now this water buffalo! What the hell was this anyway? "Let's All Pile on Bridget Day?" or something? Like a spoiled child unaccustomed to a scolding, she wondered how everything suddenly became all her fault. "You are wrong!" Bridget sobbed. "My parents didn't care! They actually listened to me and Deacon having sex over the phone and blamed him for it!"

"Didn't care?" Stephanie asked. By now, she had worked herself up into a lather. She placed her hands on her broad hips and circled Bridget and glared at her with disgust. As angry as she was at Eric, she was not about to stand by and hear him slandered. "I happen to know for a fact that your father was literally devastated. He literally begged you to annul your marriage to that scum, but you wouldn't do it. You stood there and allowed that scum to ridicule and disrespect your father. He knew you were making a mistake, but you wouldn't listen. I was the one who consoled your father when he cried over you! And your mother's behavior notwithstanding, Eric told me that she was also devastated. She blamed Amber instead of Rick. Meanwhile, you conveniently blamed them for your decision to elope to Las Vegas. I mean—HOW—does that even happen, Bridget? Could you just explain that to me? HOW do you deliberately create this drama and actually blame your parents for it and then whine because they don't support it? What shocks me even more is that they actually took it and allowed you to repeatedly disrespect them and talk to them any kind of way. Well, I'll tell you one thing. Say what you want about me, but my children know better! There's never been any doubt in MY household who the parent and who the child was—even now. Now, am I defending your mother? No. But, I DO want you to grow the hell up and take responsibility for the mess you helped to create. It's called learning to sleep in the bed you made!"

Bridget tears were falling freely by now and she began to bawl. "You lying, horrid old WITCH!" She screamed.

"Watch your mouth," Stephanie warned.

"I'll tell Ridge! No—I'll tell my father! I'll tell him EVERYTHING! You want to talk about a someone creating a mess!" Bridget cried. "What about the mess YOU created because you couldn't keep your legs closed? I'll tell Dad how you knew all along about Ridge; how you LIED and kept on lying for years; how you and Massimo swore me to secrecy! I'll even tell him about the REAL reason you recommended that school in Copenhagen. You knew! You KNEW about me and Ridge, and you couldn't stand it. You were jealous—jealous because I could give him the one thing YOU could not! And by the time I'm done, my father will dump your fat ass like a sack of soggy potatoes!" Bridget spitefully sniped.

At that, Stephanie's rage knew no bounds. She quickly reared herself up to her full height. "Why, you nasty little—" An enraged Stephanie balled her right hand into a fist and raised it, poised to strike with the goal of knocking Bridget's teeth down her throat. However, she was unexpectedly thwarted as another hand forcefully grabbed hers from behind. Angered by the interruption, Stephanie turned, prepared to unleash her fury on her intruder. However, some of the wind was knocked out of her sails when she came face to face with a shocked Katherine, whose eyes were as wide as saucers.

"My God! The children and I could hear you two all the way upstairs! What in the world are you people doing? " Katherine asked.

Stephanie and Bridget had the good grace to look embarrassed and guilty like two small children whose hands were caught in the proverbial cookie jar. There was little doubt that Ridge would be informed about their behavior; now they each wondered how to finesse things to her own advantage.

Katherine looked at both women as if they were crazy. What in the world had she walked in on? While she was under no illusions about either Stephanie or Bridget when it came to pursuing their own agendas, she certainly expected them to act in a civilized manner. She did not know which was worse, the horrible slurs, filthy language or their total lack of regard for the young children within earshot of their fight. Although Katherine did not hear everything that was said, she heard enough. She was grateful that the girls, who adored Brooke and Hope, could not fully comprehend the shocking accusations that Bridget hurled against her own mother. Were they true, Katherine wondered. And what was this about Stephanie and Massimo? Even more shocking were the crude accusations that Bridget made against Stephanie, all but implying that the older woman had incestuous feelings for her own son. Based on her own observations of Bridget’s behavior toward Ridge in recent months, Katherine thought some serious psychological projecting was going on. She resisted the urge to say, “Good afternoon, Pot. I want you to meet Kettle.” Instead, she looked at both Stephanie and Bridget with repugnance. It was clear to her that neither woman had any shame and only looked ashamed now because they were exposed. As far as Katherine was concerned both women were positively insane and had absolutely no business being around small children.

Stephanie glared first at Katherine and then Bridget. This was all Bridget’s fault, she decided. If the girl had simply left when she told her to, none of this would have happened. Now those babies were traumatized!

Bridget immediately sensed that Stephanie would blame her for what happened. What else was new? Well, she’s not getting away with it, she thought angrily. Nor did she appreciate Katherine's judgmental attitude or the predatory way she acted as if she was Ridge's wife instead of the children's nanny.

“Et tu, Katherine?” Bridget sneered in a voice dripping with scorn.

“I beg your pardon?” A confused Katherine asked.

“Protecting your territory—Ridge? How pathetic! Why don't you just lift your leg and pee on him instead?” Bridget rudely sniped.

“Oh—wait a minute! Hold up,” Katherine said in astonishment as she held her hand up. “I just know I’m hearing things. Maybe you're still reeling from yesterday's 'excitement' or something. Now I don’t know what your problem is, but I deeply resent your tone and your insinuations.”

“You're giving her way too much credit, Katherine. You're not hearing things at all,” Stephanie angrily snapped, appalled at what she just heard. “This girl has no shame whatsoever! None! And when it comes to dogs lifting up their legs to pee on somebody, you're a fine one to talk, missy!”

"How dare you?" Bridget gasped.

Katherine rolled her eyes in exasperation. “With all due respect, Mrs. Forrester, I don’t think you’re helping matters any,” she firmly chided.

“Well, I’m sorry, but this child isn’t going to march in here and announce what she’s going to do and what she’s not going to do. Now do you see what I had to deal with? She was asked very politely to leave and look at the mess she created!” Stephanie accused.

“Asked politely?!” Bridget yelled, finding her tongue. “Oh my God! You are such a liar! Maybe your definition of ‘asking politely’ is different from mine, but since when is physically assaulting someone being polite? And you better believe Ridge is going to hear about this!”

“And just what will you tell Ridge? I never physical assaulted you, and you know it!” Stephanie yelled, conveniently forgetting how she tried to throw Bridget bodily out of Ridge's house. She also conveniently forgot that Katherine had just restrained her moments before from giving Bridget five across the lip.

Katherine pursed her lips in disgust. She was this close to tendering her resignation. Let these two witches haggle over Ridge's soul at their own leisure. Who needed the headaches? However, the thought of leaving the children alone with these two she-wolves gave her considerable pause. One was considered a classy patrician and matriarch of a fine family. The other was considered the crown jewel of the same fine family. As far as Katherine was concerned, they were no better than the trashy, semi-literate, foul-mouthed, and violent slatterns that appeared on Jerry Springer. The only difference, in Katherine's mind, was Stephanie and Bridget's Beverly Hills zip code. How ironic that they practically came to blows over a man to whom they were both related.

“Ladies, perhaps you could both tone it down? You've repeatedly said that the children are your primary concern, but I sure can't tell. These children have been through enough as it is without this kind of ill-mannered—"

“I don’t need you to patronize me!” Bridget retorted. “There’s nothing wrong with my manners, thank you very much.”

“Really?” Stephanie butted in, placing a hand on her right hip. “Not only are you ill-mannered, but you evidently don’t have sense enough to know when you’ve worn out your welcome.”

“Pffttt!” Bridget snorted. “Now that’s rich coming from you! I’m sure that Ridge just rolled out the welcome mat for you, didn’t he? You have a husband at home, but somehow or another, you're actually living here now.”

At the sound of Katherine’s sharp intake of breath, Stephanie knew that Katherine had caught her in an obvious lie. Leave it to Bridget to mess everything up, she thought bitterly. While it was, indeed, true that Ridge did not exactly invite her to move in; his one-night-only invitation was just a matter of semantics as far as she was concerned. She still had to finagle her way back into her own home, and Jonathan dumping her as a client was just a temporary setback. Despite Katherine's presence, Stephanie decided to ride this lie out as far as she could, believing she could count on the younger woman's discretion not to expose her "untruth."

"Whether I'm living here or not is of no concern to you!" Stephanie snapped defensively.

"It is if you're negatively affecting the children as Katherine said," Bridget coolly responded, ignoring that Katherine's comments were directed at her as well.

"You little piece of—" Stephanie started toward Bridget again. This time, she was interrupted by a hurt and confused Phoebe.

"Grandma? Aunt Bwidget … why is everybody yelling? Did Bwooke do something bad?" Phoebe asked.

[GIOVANNA]

Thanks for the highlights. How I WISH TPTB would pen this type of thing...

Also, I loved these two lines...

But, you couldn't stop there, could you? No! Instead you took advantage of Ridge's grief.

Typical Fang, for her to say something like that. It is ALWAYS the woman's fault in her mind, Ridge is the one being taken advantage of. The woman is always taking advantage of his grief, decency, or whatever.

[lalogan]

Yeah, I know. Ugly was really grieving when he shoved his tongue down Pigget's throat, multiple times. He was especially grief-stricken when he kissed and swore his undying love to his pervo "Princess" just before preparing to walk down the aisle with Brooke.

All of Ugly's apologists, both on the show and off, act like he is some innocent who never does anything bad, it's always someone else -- usually a woman -- who "manipulates" him and "takes advantage" of him.

[GIOVANNA]

Well, I am inspired...here is one of MY favorite exchanges....this is when Eric first finds out about Hag and Mass and their love child, Wide, the same Widge that Hag used to strong-arm Eric into marriage..even though he was engaged to someone else. It shows how Eric should have reacted when he found out this forty-year-old lie instead of not letting the old witch steamroll him.

I have bolded the best lines....



"Eric! Please open the door!" Stephanie repeatedly pounded on the heavy door until her knuckles were practically stinging. She continued to knock and pound on the door as small rivulets of perspiration ran down her back.

Tired from the effort, Stephanie leaned against the door. She then recollected herself and proceeded to pound and knock on the door again. "Eric! Let me in!" She yelled.

Suddenly the door flew open and she was face to face with an enraged Eric. Stephanie, whose fist was in midair, suddenly dropped it. She no longer recognized the usually debonair silver fox, who could make even the hearts of 20-year-old women swoon. Stephanie was also taken aback by the depth of unconcealed hatred on her husband's face.

"What do YOU want?" Eric angrily demanded.

"I want to come in." Stephanie said, now on the verge of tears. "We have so much we need to talk about. I would prefer to do it inside, and not out here."

"You have no need to come back here." Eric coldly replied. "Or, didn't you notice your packed bag and the rest of your things outside?"

"Eric, please! This is so—so—undignified."

"Undignified? Like the undignified way you shamed me in front of my children by moving out of this house to openly live with Massimo? Or, like the undignified way you and your lovechild attempted to wrest control of the company and my estate from the rest of MY children?"

"Lovechild?" Stephanie asked indignantly. "Eric—no! Ridge is your son. YOUR son!"

"That's not what I heard. I also heard that YOUR son has been doing indecent things with MY daughter!"

"No, no, Eric!" Stephanie shook her head in denial. "You've got it all wrong. I can explain, if you would just simply let me come in."

"You are no longer welcome in this house." Eric said firmly.

"You don't mean that. Don't let that slut—that tramp—Brooke and her malicious lies come between us." Stephanie begged. Unfortunately, she had no way of knowing that she had pushed a button that should have never been pushed.

"Malicious? Lies? Woman, isn't your cup of abominations full enough? Must you add hypocrisy to it, also?" Eric sneered. "And you want to talk about someone being a slut? You have your nerve."

"Eric, please! We can make this right." Stephanie said in a futile attempt to convince him.

"All these years, it was 'slut' this, and 'slut' that!" Eric fumed. "Meanwhile, the REAL slut was living in this house all along!"

"Eric!" Stephanie gasped in shock.

"Go back to your lover and let HIM take you in. Or, go to your son's house. I don't care where you go, but you're not spending another night under this roof."

"Eric—wait—"

"Get the hell off my property!" Eric sneered before viciously slamming the door in Stephanie's face.

[GIOVANNA]

Well, MissJR managed to top herself...only this post involves the smack-down Bridgette gets from her mother.

To catch some viewers up, Brooke has dumped Ridge at the altar, but he still doesn't take the hint. Instead, he is stalking her around town and winds up at her home. Things get ugly, so Amber calls the cops, and Ridge is arrested, but not after Brooke gives him a very public and well-deserved beat-down, which is caught on TV. BooHoo and Hag both see the arrest, and this is the phone call BooHoo makes to her mother, followed by Brooke's return call:

Brooke then played the next few messages. When she heard the last message, her heart went into her throat. The tearful message, which was full of venom and accusatory in nature, broke Brooke’s heart:


Mom, how could you do this to Ridge?! First, you destroy Ridge; now, Stephanie, who is practically catatonic because of you. You literally destroy everything you come into contact with! You just couldn’t stand it could you? You couldn’t stand it that Ridge wanted ME—and not YOU! So you vindictively set out to destroy him; to embarrass him and make him look like a fool on national TV. Well I hope you’re satisfied! But, I guess you can’t help it, can you? You think that just because you put on some designer dresses and have some money in the bank that you can call yourself a lady. Well, you’re not. You’ll always be a common Valley Girl who happened to get lucky. Oh, and if you think you’ll effortlessly move on to Captain Nick Payne, then you had better think again. You might have him fooled now, but he’ll wake up one day and see you for what you really are! And when he does, I hope I’m there to see it!

Bridget picked up her cell phone and her eyes widened in surprise when she realized that her mother was calling her back. Maybe she’s going to drop the charges, a happy Bridget thought.

“Mom, I take it you got my message. Good, now maybe you can—”

“Where are you now?” Brooke coldly interrupted her daughter.

Completely thrown off, Bridget became confused. “Huh? What?”

“I asked where are you? Are you at Ridge’s house right now?”

“As a matter of fact, I am,” Bridget smugly replied. “Massimo wants me to spend the night.”

“And let me guess … Ridge’s mother is there also.”

“Stephanie is lying down,” Bridget claimed.

“I see. How nice that your handlers have let you off your leash long enough to make phone calls!” Brooke coldly snarled.

Bridget was truly astonished by her mother’s little dig. “What?! Handlers? Leash? Wait a minute … are you calling me a dog?”

“Not a dog, Bridget. More like one of Pavlov’s little research subjects. The fact that they happened to be dogs is merely a coincidence,” Brooke said in a cutting voice.

“How DARE you?!” Bridget yelled.

“No, Bridget; how dare you?! You know, I fully expected you to be upset about Ridge, but as is typical with his defenders, you have a tendency to shoot your big mouths off without knowing all the facts.”

“You had him arrested!” Bridget screamed accusingly. “You beat him up! I saw you!”

“Isn’t it interesting that the only reason you contacted me was to whine about Ridge—and Stephanie of all people. But had you been here, you would have known exactly why Ridge was arrested! I didn’t have Ridge arrested. In fact, he had been stalking me all day long. He was ordered to leave by the police only to turn right around and come back over here. Hell, I even begged him to go home! Oh, and just so you know, he nearly ran Captain Payne over and tried to assault him. He hurled all kinds of nasty insults at me and accused me and Captain Payne of being lovers!”

A disbelieving Bridget shook her head. “You probably are lovers,” she sniped. “And you only did it to make Ridge jealous!”

Brooke began to clench and unclench her fist. Thank God her daughter wasn’t in her presence right now! “You know what, Bridget? So what if Captain Payne and I were lovers—which we are not. What the hell business is it of yours or Ridge’s?”

A shocked Bridget began to sputter. “Wh—What?! I can’t believe you would talk to me like that!”

“Oh, I see now. It only works one way—it’s okay when you do it, right? Well, let me ask you something, Bridget. Do you live here?” Brooke asked.

In response, Brooke received silence.

“I asked you a question, Bridget! Do you live here now?” Brooke demanded.

“No,” Bridget sullenly replied.

“And, when you did live here, did you pay any bills here? A mortgage note? A tax bill? A utility bill? A credit card bill? Anything?”

“No,” Bridget coldly responded.

“Then you need to shut your damn mouth about what goes on in my house!” Brooke snapped. “If I want to have a man visit me, spend the night or trim my toenails, that is MY business—NOT yours! Do you understand me?” Brooke yelled.

All Brooke heard now was a bunch of sniffling.

“I said do you understand me?” Brooke asked again.

“Yes,” Bridget tearfully replied.

“Oh, and another thing. The next time you come out of your mouth to put me down because of where I’m from, I swear I will get in my car, hunt your little ass down and slap you blind! How dare you, Bridget? Let me give you a little history lesson about this ‘Valley Girl who happened to get lucky.’ My mother owned her own catering business and was damned successful at it. My brother put himself through law school, made Law Review and is now a successful attorney. And neither of my sisters are slackers either. I put myself through school and worked my ass off so you and your brother could have the best of everything! It’s through my efforts that you’ve had every material advantage imaginable. It’s because of me that you were able to attend medical school, including that accelerated program in Copenhagen you participated in. Even in that apartment you live in, I pay half the rent. I also pay the lease on your car. And, as quiet as it’s kept, you are but one generation out the Valley your damn self so you had better be very careful about putting me or anyone else in your family down! By the way, would it shock you to learn that I told Ridge that he was the worse piece of trash I’ve ever seen? You’re so busy parroting everything he and his mother have said about me. Meanwhile you and your would-be lover have been acting worse than some of the inbred trash on the Jerry Springer Show!” Brooke shouted.

By now, Bridget was sobbing hysterically. She was in total shock and disbelief that her mother had actually stood up to her and told her off. She then lashed out to hurt Brooke in the best way possible. “This is all about Ridge!” Bridget bawled. “Just because he didn’t want you, you’re attacking meeeeeee!”

“You know, Bridget, if you would get your head out the clouds long enough, you would realize that this is so much bigger than you. Can’t you see that?” Brooke asked. “There are things going on—that have been going on—that are way over your head. But, you are so busy seeking Massimo’s approval that you’ve shut out everyone else who loves you. You’re riding high now, but you are headed for a fall—a big one. And who do you think will be there to catch you? It won’t be Ridge or his parents, Bridget.”

“Mom, everything could be alright with us if you would just drop the charges against Ridge,” Bridget said.

“Oh, just like everything was supposed to be alright with us when I chose you over allowing Hope to have a relationship with her father, right? Well, I can’t drop the charges against Ridge; I didn’t bring them. And even if I had the power to drop them, I wouldn’t do it.”

“You are SO vindictive!” Bridget railed. “What kind of life do you think he’s going to have if he becomes a convicted felon?”

“The same kind of life he’s always had—a charmed, privileged one. There’s a major difference between a wealthy man like Ridge being a convicted felon and the average Joe being one. Now I’m sorry that Ridge is in the predicament he is in. But, cheer up. He’ll be home soon enough to the women who love him—both of them.” Brooke pointedly said before hanging up.

[lalogan]

Oh, that is indeed a worthy addition.

[GIOVANNA]

And here is another one....this is the day after Ridge gets arrested, and his mommy goes to FC. She makes a beeline for Brooke's office, and starts her usual crap, only to have Eric come in, followed by a woman who works for his lawyer. The woman has just given her divorce papers, and what follows is Eric finally growing a spine and tossing her out....

“Is everything alright in here, Mr. Forrester?” Joe Barnes, Forrester’s security chief asked. He was accompanied by another heavily muscled security guard.

Stephanie gasped in disbelief. Security? What the bloody hell …?

“Actually, gentlemen, your timing is perfect,” Eric firmly replied. “As you can see, Mrs. Forrester is ready for departure. I would prefer if it she left voluntarily. However, if she persists in staying and being disruptive, you have my permission to remove her forcibly.”

The two security men looked at one another with uncertainty. Joe Barnes had long dreamed of the day when he could escort “the queen” out of the building and toss her on her rump outside. He just never imagined his dreams would actually come true. The other security guard understood that Eric had given a direct order; yet, he was somewhat reluctant to carry it out. After all, this was the man’s wife—not some vagrant or solicitor.

Brooke and Rick were just as surprised by Eric’s directive. Rick’s face betrayed no particular emotion; however, Brooke briefly looked away. She hated Stephanie with a passion, but she could take no real pleasure in watching her bodily thrown out of the building. Hopefully, she will leave without any trouble, Brooke thought. However, Stephanie disabused Brooke of any such notions.

“Oh, so what, Eric? You’re actually going to have me thrown out now?” An outraged Stephanie demanded. “Is that’s what’s going on, Eric? You’re actually having your armed goons put me out?! Joe? Are you really going to do what he said and forcibly put me out?”

“Stephanie, you have two options and unless you’re deaf, I’m sure you heard what they were.” Eric evenly replied. “Not only have I filed for divorce, but I’ve also taken steps to have you ejected from this company—today.”

“What do you mean that you’ve taken steps to have me ejected?” Stephanie demanded.

“I would suggest you pick your papers up off the floor and see for yourself,” Eric coolly replied to Stephanie. He then addressed Forrester’s chief of security. “Joe, this morning my attorneys had a temporary injunction order signed, which prohibits Mrs. Forrester from entering this building. A copy of that order has been faxed to me, and I’ll be giving you a copy for your records. A similar order will be issued shortly barring Mrs. Forrester’s son, Ridge, from the building as well. Joe, I’ve also had the security company alerted so that Mrs. Forrester and her older son’s electronic keys are deactivated immediately. I don’t want them sneaking back in here and intimidating the staff whenever I or Ms. Logan aren’t here,” Eric explained.

“Why you—” A seething Stephanie began to mutter.

Eric ignored her however and turned his attention to an obviously shocked Brooke. “Brooke, you might have already been advised to do so, but I want you to get a protective order for yourself. Given how manipulative, persistent, dangerous and vindictive Ridge and his mother can be, it would be in your best interests to protect yourself and your children.” Eric advised.

Before Brooke got a chance to speak, Stephanie beat her to the punch. “I’m not going anywhere!” She exploded, absolutely furious at Eric’s characterizations of her and Ridge. Nor, did it escape her notice that once again Eric talked about Ridge as if he were nothing but a stranger. A fed up Stephanie stepped to Eric, got in his face and proceeded to give him a tongue lashing that neither he nor anyone else would ever forget. She no longer cared that they had an audience. Since he wanted to show off and embarrass her in front of all these people—especially his new whore—then she would show off right along with him!

“You’re going to put me out of my company? My company?! Listen, you gutless, spineless—you weak, ungrateful son of a bitch! You had better think long and hard about this! I happen to OWN this company with you! I helped you build Forrester Creations. I was with your ass when you had nothing! If it weren’t for my father, you wouldn’t have gotten the money to start this company in the first place! And now you think you can just take the money and run. Well, you can kiss my entire ass because it’s not happening! Do you hear me, Eric? This—this divorce and this trying to bar me from MY company are NOT happening! I’ve tolerated a lot from you over the years—your cheating, your weakness, bringing opportunists into our business only to have them take it over. Well, no more! Brooke isn’t the only one around here who can pretend she suffers from ‘battered spouse syndrome.’ I will drag your name through the mud and let everyone know what I’ve had to tolerate! And don’t think I won’t do it. Don’t think I can’t prove it either. By the time I’m done with your weak ass, you’ll wish you’d never met me!” Stephanie vowed, the spittle practically flying into Eric’s face.

“I realized I had those regrets a long time ago, Stephanie,” Eric sardonically replied. “I’ve never denied your contributions to Forrester Creations. But, evidently, you’re forgetting that I paid your father back—with interest. Boy, have I paid! For 40-plus years, I’ve paid as every silver strand of hair in my scalp will attest. Paying your father back was the least I could do considering that his daughter tricked me into marriage in the first place. And do we really want to start talking about what people have had to tolerate in the last 40-plus years? Now, unless you want my lawyers to file something asking that you be found in contempt for violating a court order, I would suggest you get gone! You have 10 minutes to get your things; one minute past that, you’ll be escorted out.”

Stephanie let forth a guttural scream and lunged for Eric. So hell bent was she on going upside his head that she nearly lost her balance. As she attempted to grab Eric, Joe Barnes and the other security guard grabbed her to alternately keep her from falling and to keep her from attacking Eric.

“Get your hands off of me!” Stephanie snarled. Although she attempted to strike the men, they firmly restrained her.

Eric stooped down and picked up the discarded pleadings that Stephanie had been served with earlier and handed them to Joe. “Be sure that Mrs. Forrester doesn’t forget these on her way out.” Eric said.

An increasingly enraged Stephanie jerked against the two men, who kept a firm grip on her arms. “You’ll pay for this outrage, Eric! You, your slutty CEO and your new bimbo for hire—Cherry! Enjoy the ménage a trois, you pieces of trash!”

Brooke frowned in disgust and silently kicked herself. She had come thisclose to feeling sorry for the old harpy! She could rot in hell as far as she was concerned. Cheré merely looked at Stephanie in amusement. Evidently, the lady didn’t disappoint, she thought.

Within seconds, Joe and the other security guard had practically propelled a protesting Stephanie out of Brooke’s office into the hallway. Several employees rushed from their offices to see what all the commotion was about. They were agog at the sight of Stephanie being dragged kicking and screaming from Brooke’s office. Stephanie’s escorts led her down the hall to her own office and waited while she grabbed some of her belongings. Stephanie grabbed her favorite letter opener and placed it in her purse. At the last moment, she grabbed a picture of Ridge inside a silver frame while vowing that her two escorts would be sorry. Convinced that she would be back in a matter of days, Stephanie chose to leave the rest of her personal belongings behind. Joe and the other security guard then accompanied Stephanie to the elevator, much to her chagrin. Some of the employees who had eagerly watched the spectacle now averted their eyes or hid out of sight when they realized Stephanie was leaving. They did not want to be accused of openly celebrating or acting pleased. However, a couple of employees had already planned to take the group out for celebratory drinks after work.

“I don’t need company!” A humiliated Stephanie snapped.

“Sorry, ma’am,” Joe said. “We have our instructions.”

When it became apparent to Stephanie that the two men would be escorting her to her car, she was beyond outraged. She had gleefully had the security guards perform this exercise with other employees over the years. That it was now happening to her was simply shocking.

The elevator doors opened and Stephanie found herself on it, not quite remembering how she got there. Did she move under her own power, or was she carried onto the elevator? She glowered at her escorts as the doors closed. The elevator stopped in the lower lobby. Stephanie was surprised to see a police escort waiting for her as she got off the elevator.

“What is this? This is overkill!” She yelled at no one in particular.

Joe ignored her and gave the officer a very brief synopsis of what happened. He then gave the legal documents to the officer, who reassured Joe that Stephanie would not be leaving without them.

[lalogan]

Another particularly delicious part of this fic is the confrontation between Deacon and FatAssimo:

_______________

"That's right, Hudson. Please direct Jeanette to put the rose-scented damask sheets on Mrs. Forrester's bed." Massimo directed his manservant by phone. "She hasn't arrived yet? I see. No, I haven't heard from her yet, but I fully expect her to arrive at some point today, and when she does, Hudson, I expect her to be treated with the respect that would be accorded the mistress of my home." Massimo paused for a moment before hanging up. "Good. If there's anything else, please don't hesitate to contact me."

"Well, well! Now, ain't THAT a bitch?" A grinning Deacon drawled from the doorway. Massimo, who was very seldom ruffled about anything, looked like a deer caught in headlights. As Massimo attempted to recover from his discomfiture, Deacon, like a bloodhound, who finally located his quarry, slowly shut the door behind him and approached the discombobulated man.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Massimo angrily demanded.

"To finish up our business, of course. Oh, and while we're at it, maybe we can enjoy a little bit of small talk."

"Small talk? With the likes of you? It didn't even occur to me that you knew how to do anything outside of the bedroom or barnyard—or wherever your kind typically enjoys sexual encounters." Massimo said insultingly.

"My kind? Yeah, I guess you could say that 'my kind' gets it wherever they can. It sure doesn't beat getting it on some fancy rose-scented sheets though, does it?" Deacon sneered nastily. He then sat in a seat facing Massimo's massive marble desk. Deacon then leisurely stretched out and placed his feet on Massimo's desk.

"Get your feet off my desk, you scum!" Massimo snapped. "And, take your crude comments and get out!"

"Look. Don't get it twisted, fat boy. I'm not going no damn where. You dig? As for being crude? Sheeee-it! I can't think of anything more crude than you getting all jiggy with that tight-ass broad, Stephanie. Me? I like 'em a little more firm and lively in bed. But, hey, man. Whatever floats your boat!"

"You get the HELL out of here!" Massimo yelled, bolting out of his chair. He reached across the desk and grabbed Deacon's collar and yanked him out of his chair. He continued to pull on the younger man's collar and yanked him toward him. Never a proponent of non-violence, Deacon grabbed the collar of Massimo's jacket in turn.

"And, if you don’t sit your five-dollar ass down, I'll break you down into so many coins that I'll be able to make change! Got it?" Deacon said menacingly.

Both men continued to pull on each other's collars and started to shove each other. Unexpectedly, Massimo took his fist and aimed wildly at Deacon's head. Snarling like a ravenous coyote, Deacon successfully thwarted Massimo's blow. He then grabbed Massimo's jacket. Putting his index and middle fingers together, Deacon skillfully applied the right amount of pressure to the back of Massimo's neck. The action effectively paralyzed Massimo, as he loudly yelped and his legs gave way. Deacon forcefully shoved the older man backward, who sank into his chair like a deflated balloon. The surprise attack left Massimo humiliated and out of sorts. He glared at Deacon, who stood over him glowering and reveling in his physical superiority.

"What do you want?" A heaving Massimo demanded as he struggled to catch his breath.

"The rest of my money. I did a job for you, and I want everything I'm supposed to get coming to me."

"Oh, don't you worry. I'll make sure that you get everything that's coming to you." Massimo replied ominously.

"You'll make sure I get everything that's coming to me?" Deacon threw back his head and laughed. "Man, you come straight out of a comic book!"

A furious Massimo glowered at the upstart, as he did not appreciate being ridiculed. "Fool! You dare to laugh at ME?" He snarled.

"You dare to laugh at ME?" Deacon mimicked in a deep, gravelly voice. He burst into laughter again before becoming serious. "Yeah, fat boy—I dare. You're nothing but a pompous, condescending, over-stuffed pimp. I don't know which is worse—that permanent sneer your lips are always fixed in, or the way they're pursed in that condescending way of yours. You can dress up in a lot of fancy suits and put on all these airs like you're superior to everybody else. But, as far as I'm concerned you're no better than the two-bit hustlers whose asses I used to kick on the regular back in Vegas."

"And, you're lower than dirt—a depraved vermin-infested pit snake content to slither in and out of the bed of any sleazy tramp with an itch!" Massimo loudly blustered.

"Yeah? And, what itch are YOU scratching? Evidently, old Eric must not be up to the job these days. Why else would the Handmaiden of Satan need to come crawling to you for servicing?"

"You watch your mouth, punk!" Massimo ground out between gritted teeth.

"Oh ... so, you don't think Grandma Dynamite is a sleazy tramp then? Even though she's married? Even though you had her big ass laid up in your house for a whole year until she and Eric renewed their vows? Even though you're making arrangements for her to move BACK into your house—with rose-scented sheets and sh*t? But, she's still not a sleazy tramp, right? Call me crazy, but I thought if it looked like a duck, quacked like a duck ..." Deacon drawled.

"GET OUT!" A furious Massimo bellowed.

Deacon's eyes widened and he playfully slapped his forehead as if he had just received a revelation. "Oh! Oh ... Ohhhhhhhh!"" Deacon whined in a high-pitched voice as he did his best Edith-Bunker-finally-gets-it imitation. "Don't tell me this one of those 'pure' relationships? How 'romantical.' A lot of hand-holding and love poems, but no sex." Deacon remarked, clearly enjoying himself as he watched Massimo's face change from burgundy red to a mottled purple. "I bet you and Satan's Concubine even have your own theme song. Me and Mrs. Forresterrrrrrr! We got a thinggggg going onnnnnn!" Deacon sang in a deep bass voice.

Massimo was outraged at what he considered a gross mischaracterization of his and Stephanie's relationship. "SHUT UP! Shut up or I swear I'll—" he roared.

"Or, you'll what? What the hell is your bitch ass gonna do? Listen real closely, fat boy, because I'm gonna say it loud so that you hear it clearly, and I'll explain it real slow so you don't miss anything. First of all, you gotta BRING ass to GET ass, and it's gonna take a lot more balls than you've got!"

"Oh, and, you think YOU have them?" Massimo yelled.

"More than you'll ever know."

"Listen, boy. You really have no idea who you're messing with," Massimo warned ominously.

"Ooooooooh! I'm scared! I'm scared!" Deacon trembled in mock fright.

"You had better be."

"Look, why don't you save that bad act for somebody else because you don't move me."

"And, what about your brats—your children? Can THEY be moved?" Massimo asked with a studied air of indifference as he formed his fingers into a teepee. "Surely, you wouldn't want those poor innocents to suffer because of the sins of their father." He drawled.

Deacon, livid at Massimo's thinly veiled threats, practically leapt across the desk. Massimo quickly wheeled his chair away from the desk so that he was out of arm's reach.

"If you mess with my kids, I swear I'll kill you!" Deacon raged. "You got that? I'll freakin' KILL you!"

"Hmmm ... well, look who's making the threats now." Massimo coolly observed.

"Not threats—just a promise. You mess with my kids, I'll come at you so hard that you won't see anything again—ever."

"My! Such a temper! And, the violence!" Massimo said mockingly, pretending to be afraid as he shuddered in an exaggerated manner.

"Trust me. You haven't seen anything yet." Deacon warned.

"Listen, boy. I don’t take too kindly to threats. I'm a busy man and have no more time to waste on your rather clumsy attempts at intimidation. Frankly, they bore me. I'd much rather concentrate on something much more productive such as the real reason you're here." Massimo suggested.

"Yeah—damn right. Let's talk money." Deacon said.

"Of course. Have a seat, Deacon, and we'll get this rather distasteful matter of money concluded." Massimo responded, suddenly becoming amenable.

Deacon plopped himself down in the chair opposite Massimo's desk. The possibility of financial remuneration had cooled his temper considerably.

"You owe me for services rendered." Deacon groused.

"Yes—that." Massimo smirked as he stretched backward in his chair. "Well, that IS a problem. Of course, I'll pay for services rendered—particularly if a job is well done. As a businessman, however, I don't believe in paying for something I didn't get. I'm sure you can appreciate my position."

"Hey! What the hell kind of trick is this?" Deacon flared.

"It's no trick. Just a sound business principle. I simply don't believe in rewarding failure."

"Look, it's not my fault that Ridge and Brooke are still together!" Deacon argued. "I thought that after my little revelation, he would have been done with her—especially after the vivid picture I painted for him. I guess I seriously underestimated that soul mate thing they have going. Or, maybe Pretty Boy Floyd is more whipped by the 'golden groin' than I realized." Deacon said nastily. Massimo roared with laughter at Deacon's bawdy and crude speech.

"As whipped as YOU were maybe?" Massimo sarcastically asked. "The 'golden groin,' indeed! Oh, nice!" Massimo chortled.

Deacon realized much too late that he had once again allowed his temper and his mouth to get ahead of his brain. He silently swore under his breath. He hadn't meant to characterize Brooke like that but, she really pissed him off, blowing him off as some kind of mistake she wished she had never made!

"Look, you know how these things work out. I mean, who knew there would even be a wedding and that they would be on their honeymoon as we speak?" Deacon asked.

"Yes ... who knew?" Massimo hid a small smile and shrewdly kept his counsel. So, the scum had no idea that the wedding had been called off? Not only that, he actually cared about his brats—almost like pets. Massimo thought in wonderment. Smirking, he decided to take advantage of Deacon's ignorance.

"Yes, it's supposed to be quite a honeymoon." Massimo said slowly. "They're going to Carmel, and Ridge tells me that Eric gifted him and Brooke with a trip to Greece. Surely, Ridge will have little cause for complaint. After all, I understand that Brooke is quite the tigress in bed. But, then, too, that IS how you two managed to conceive your child." Massimo chuckled richly, as Deacon fumed.

Massimo stood and walked to the large window. He deliberately turned his back on Deacon and folded his arms. "Funny," he said, thoughtfully. "A real woman would NEVER deprive her child of her father and use other men as stand-ins. It's amazing the havoc that woman's obsession with Ridge has wrecked on her children's lives. You know, she did the same thing to Rick and Bridget—insisting that Ridge raise those children as his own, while shutting Eric out of their lives."

"Well, I was the one who walked out of Hope's life." Deacon said, not at all liking the way this conversation was going. This was supposed to be about his money—not about Hope.

"Yes, you walked out—but at BROOKE'S insistence." Massimo turned toward Deacon. "You shouldn't have to tolerate something like that. It's bad enough that your son is being raised by Rick and that money-grubbing vagrant he's married to, but this ... well, it's more than any man should tolerate—all just because Brooke has a problem with you."

"Look—what's your point?" Deacon demanded.

Massimo walked back to his desk and sat down. He regarded Deacon briefly and took his time before responding. He could see that he had struck a nerve. However, he would tread carefully, as the street-smart Deacon was no doe-eyed girl, whom he could easily manipulate.

"My point, Deacon, is this. I'm not about to reward you for failing me. However, if you want, I CAN make sure that you get the visitation and custody rights that you are entitled to. It will only be a matter of time before Brooke cheats on Ridge—possibly with you or some other lowlife. As for that trash that's married to her son, I understand that you were quite hot for her at one time, and that the feeling was mutual. I'm positive that the large purse young Rick comes with won't be enough to keep Amber from getting antsy especially if she sensed that you were still interested."

"Nice try, fat boy," Deacon remarked. "You might play games with all these other people, but I can see beneath all the B.S."

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Massimo gruffly replied.

"Oh, you don't, huh? Your attempt to sic me on Brooke and Amber—smooth. I'll give you that; you're REAL smooth!" Deacon laughed. He stood and leaned across Massimo's desk until he was eye to eye with him. "Well, I'm NOT taking the bait."

"Bait?" Massimo asked. He was highly amused and could not help admiring Deacon's chutzpah in spite of himself.

"Yeah—bait." Deacon firmly answered. He straightened and proceeded to pace back and forth deep in thought. "You see, what's been messing with me all along is this heavy-handed, scorched earth approach you're taking with Brooke. It's like some kind of personal vendetta. The other thing I don't get is why you're so interested in Ridge and Brooke's relationship. Like, why is it any of your business?" Deacon shrewdly asked.

"I could ask YOU the same thing," Massimo retorted. "WHY are my motives any of YOUR business?"

"Even more interesting," Deacon continued, "is this 'special' relationship you have going with Satan's Hag." Deacon stopped pacing and focused his intense gaze on Massimo's face. Although the older man attempted to maintain a poker face, just as Deacon intended, Massimo's pursed lips and the drumming of his sausage-shaped fingers on the top of his desk, were dead giveaways that Deacon had hit his mark with his demonic moniker for Stephanie.

"Get out—NOW!" Massimo demanded as he quickly stood.

"I don't get it," Deacon wryly commented. "You probably have no shortage of women at your disposal, but you're fixated on this one."

"How could you possibly understand given that your taste runs to trashy harlots?" Massimo sneered. "Stephanie is a lady."

"Well, I'm not gonna get into any debates with you about whether or not the lady's a tramp. Seems to me her behavior speaks for itself. The way you and she teamed up to destroy Brooke and the way you've given Ridge a soft landing when he wasn't allowed to get his way at Forrester—well, something's definitely rotten in Denmark!"

"I'm warning you, punk. Don't mess with me!" Massimo warned Deacon, as he rounded his desk and stood toe to toe with the younger man.

"Hmmmm ... I wonder what poor Ridge would say if he knew that you paid me to come between him and Brooke? And about Tricia—" Deacon grinned.

The color drained from Massimo's face at the mention of Tricia Quick's name. "Tricia?" He gulped. "If you're referring to that psychiatrist friend of Taylor's—"

"Psychiatrist? A friend of Taylor's?" Deacon howled. "More like Tricia NEEDS a psychiatrist! That trick is no more a psychiatrist than MY uneducated ass is. As for her being a 'friend' of poor Taylor's—yeah, right! Come on, man. This is ol' Deacon you're talking to! Where was Tricia hiding in all the years that she supposedly knew Taylor? And why did she wait until her 'friend' died to reveal herself? More likely to make a play for her 'friend's' husband! Not only that, why did Tricia have all this hatred for Brooke—a woman she didn't even know? It was like somebody handed her the "Brooke Haters Manual for Dummies" or something. Ten guesses as to who THAT was." Deacon astutely noted.

"I'm calling security!" Massimo hoarsely replied. He immediately pressed a tiny button on the side of his wristwitch.

"I bet Ridge doesn't know about her connection to you, does he?" Deacon drawled.

"There IS no connection!" Massimo roared.

"Bullsh*t. Tricia told me all about it." Deacon grinned.

"That's a bald-faced LIE!"

"Is it? For real? How can you even be sure, Massimo? Do you really want to chance it?" Deacon demanded. Massimo stared at Deacon without responding. "You would be surprised the way some women run their mouths during pillow talk after they get some good lovin'. Man—the stories she told!"

"WHAT?!" Massimo shouted. "You actually slept with—"

"You accused me of crawling into the bed of any tramp with an itch, remember? Yeah, Massimo; I slept with Tricia." Deacon said quietly. "The question is why do YOU care? You see, you messed up my money by not paying me what I'm due. Now, it's gonna cost you double. So, I would suggest you give some serious thought as to how much you're willing to pay for my silence."

Just then, the door of Massimo's office flew open. Two burly, well-dressed security guards hurried into Massimo's office.

"Okay—let's go!" Yelled one, with a florid complexion and no neck. The other security guard grabbed Deacon by the arm.

"Get him OUT of here!" Massimo ordered.

Deacon struggled to free himself from the guard's tight grip. "Back the hell up OFF me!" He yelled, elbowing the guard in the gut. However, the other guard grabbed Deacon and propelled him toward the door. "Call your boys off, Massimo, or I swear the moment Ridge and Brooke get back from their honeymoon—"

"Want us to take care of him NOW, boss?" The florid-complexioned security yelled.

"Let him go!" A fuming Massimo snapped. The two guards complied and released Deacon.

Deacon grinned cheekily and straightened his wrinkled clothes. "I thought you would see things my way." He gloated as he brushed imaginary lint from his black jacket. "You just think about what I said." Deacon said, as he walked toward the door. However, as he was about to exit, he quickly turned around and he glanced at Massimo's right hand. "By the way—nice ring," he noted. "Strange … I could have sworn I saw that ring somewhere else. I can't remember now, but it'll come back to me real soon."