WhiteSpace Season One (Episodes 1-6)

by Sean Platt

  It didn’t have to be one of Jesus’s asshole friends, though. People were mean, and the Internet practically granted super powers to assholes through the radioactive spider of anonymity. Maybe Milo had run into an especially well-sourced cyber asshole.

  Weirder things had happened.

  Milo shifted his position on the foldout couch, pulled the blanket up under his chin, then pointed the remote back at the TV, so he could hear what the alternative archeologists had to say about the pyramids.

  A dull ache persisted in his head, so he went to the kitchen to take one of the pain pills prescribed to him. He wished the doc had given him something for the itching, though, which was now in his other arm.

  He scratched the itch as he returned to the TV, enjoying the moments alone until Dani arrived. Even though she was in her early 20’s, blonde, and one of the hotter girls he’d known, he wasn’t in the mood to be around anyone.

  As Milo watched the show, he flashed back to Bea in her trance, watching snow on the TV.

  A chill ran through Milo and he clicked the TV off.

  * * * *

  CHAPTER 5 — Cassidy Hughes

  Wednesday morning…

  “Really?” Cassidy said. “You had no idea that I had a crush on you? You’re not half as smart as you pretend to be in interviews.” Cassidy moved her sandals, switching them from her sweaty right hand to the crook of her arm.

  She and Jon were walking the beach on a morning stroll, trading honest exchange with the sound and scent of the salted Pacific to their right. Cassidy was carrying her $4.99 sandals. She had no idea how much Jon had spent on the shoes he left sitting at the foot of the stairs winding down to the boardwalk.

  He smiled, then shrugged. “Really,” he said, “I had no idea. I don’t ever remember a time when you weren’t punching me, by fist or by mouth.”

  Cassidy laughed. “It was huge, until it wasn’t. But I was crushing on you way before Sarah. Which is why I guess I was so jealous of you both back in the day. Like many things with Sarah, your relationship was a giant neon sign glowing over all the stupid relationships I had.”

  Cassidy didn’t think she sounded bitter, but hoped Jon didn’t think so either.

  “I was totally clueless,” he said. “Not just about you, but Sarah too. I had no clue that she liked me when I first asked her out.”

  “Idiot. Anyone could see she was ga-ga over you. She tried to hide it from me, but you’d have to be blind not to have seen it.”

  A gallon of sand slipped through their toes before another word was whispered. The words, barely there above the crash of the foam, were hers.

  “Why not me?” Cassidy couldn’t look at him. Maybe even hated him right there in this lonely moment of hers. “Why did you ask Sarah out instead of me?”

  Sand kept slipping between their toes as Jon pulled Cassidy’s fingers into his hand. “Because,” he said, “you seemed eternally disinterested. And while I like the unicorns and rainbows in your version of our history, the one I clearly remember had you playing Wicked Witch of the Jerk to me — especially as we grew older. Yeah, you were a ton of fun when we were in fifth grade, but I don’t remember too many times from middle school on up when you weren’t trying to make me feel like shit for having money.”

  Her cheeks burned against the ocean’s cool salty mist.

  Cassidy wanted to justify her behavior, say it was all sorta kinda his fault anyway. But the truth was, right there in the rotten core of that lonely moment, Cassidy couldn’t think of a single mean thing Jon had ever done just because he had money, or to somehow prove he was better than her.

  The salty air was a sudden rock in her throat. Cassidy swallowed hard, her eyes stinging. Another gallon of sand slipped between their toes, then, “I’m sorry. I wasn’t always nice to you, and you didn’t deserve that.” Then, because she couldn’t help it, Cassidy added, “You've gotta admit, though, you did run with a couple of total assholes.”

  “Most guys are assholes,” Jon said. “It’s impossible not to run with a couple.”

  “I’m really sorry,” Cassidy shook her head and kept her eyes toward the sea. “For real, I mean it.” Her last five words crashed together as though they were only three.

  Jon nodded toward the boardwalk. “That place any good?”

  “That place” was a trendy, barely three year old, Swedish bakery and cafe called Powdered Sugar.

  Cassidy turned her gaze from ocean to boardwalk, then smiled at a memory. “Great waffles,” she said. “Everything else is meh. But if you like waffles, the place is fucking killer.”

  Jon turned toward the boardwalk. Cassidy followed and said, “The Breakfast Nook has killer waffles, too. Probably even better. When they’re good, they’re ‘explode in your mouth’ good. Problem is, Pauly started staring off into space — a lot. Half the time he needed a smoking iron to tell him the waffle’s done. The other half Pauly spends not paying attention to the same exact batter he’s made a million times before.” Cassidy made a face, remembering her last order of slightly sour waffles. “When they’re good, they’re the best on the island. But the last two times were awful. Powdered Sugar kicks ass every time.”

  They hit the boardwalk. Jon climbed to the other side, then held his hand out for Cassidy. She climbed across, then hopped to the wood landing with her eyes at Jon’s naked feet.

  Cassidy slipped her sandals on and said, “Are we okay?”

  Eyes sparkling, he said, “I’m okay if you’re okay.”

  Jon’s smile would have made her angry a week earlier. Now it made Cassidy tingle, right down to her sloppy center.

  The hostess seemed too young, like she should have been in class, rather than sorting menus from behind the counter of Powdered Sugar. She said, “Good morning, Mr. Conway,” then turned to Cassidy, smiling. “Miss.” She nodded to them both. “Will you be joining us for breakfast this morning?”

  Jon said, “Definitely.”

  The hostess glanced at Jon’s feet, then quickly away. She gestured toward the back of the restaurant and led them to a quiet table in the corner.

  “Thanks,” Jon said.

  The hostess nodded again, said, “Ryan will be right with you,” practically curtsied, then left.

  Cassidy laughed, then in a low voice said, “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

  Jon shrugged. “I’d say you get used to it, because you sort of do, but then again you never really can.”

  Cassidy said, “I guess you’d be an asshole if you could.”

  He grinned. “Yeah, I’ve known a few of them.”

  Cassidy laughed, “I bet,” then hurried to merge back into the conversation they were having when sand was still slipping between their toes.

  “How did you know Sarah was The One?”

  Jon sniffed at the surprise inside the question, blinking twice before rearranging his face and saying, “I don’t know. I’ve never really thought about it.”

  “Think about it now,” Cassidy said. “If Sarah was The One That Got Away, like you said, then you must know when she became The One.”

  Jon tugged on his bottom lip with both rows of teeth slowly nodding. “That’s a damn good question.”

  “So,” Cassidy said. ”Do you have a moment.”

  Jon nodded. “I do.”

  “So?”

  “So, you’re gonna have to wait.” He turned to Ryan, standing at their table, notepad in hand. Jon seemed surprised to see that Ryan was an attractive woman in her late 20’s, rather than the pimply faced teenaged boy he probably expected to see. “Good morning, Ryan.”

  “Good morning,” she smiled, surprised by the greeting. Cassidy tried her best not to roll her eyes.

  “Welcome to Powdered Sugar. I see that your menus are closed. Does that mean you already know what you want, or maybe you’d like me to come back, or I could give you a suggestion?” she offered.

  Jon smiled. “Yes, and no thank you twice.”

  Ryan smiled back.


  Cassidy opened her menu, waiting to see what Jon would order before she decided what she’d get. “One second. You order first, Jon.”

  Jon said, “Okay, I’ll have an order of waffles. And a glass of ice water.”

  Ryan scribbled on her notepad, then said, “That it? Anything special on the waffles?”

  “How would you eat it?” Jon asked. “What do you think makes the perfect waffle?”

  Ryan’s face flooded with red, as though blushing at the reality of Jon Conway asking for her honest opinion. She said, “Well, I’m really not sure. I like my waffles all sorts of ways. They’re all really great, every one on the menu.”

  Jon said, “You think about it. Whatever waffle you think is the best waffle, that’s the one I want. If there’s a better way to make it that you guys aren’t telling anyone about, then I want it that way.”

  She laughed and said, “Okay.”

  Cassidy said, “I’ll have waffles with butter, maple syrup, and some whipped cream, please. And a glass of milk.”

  Ryan left the table and Cassidy whispered to Jon, “What if she likes waffles buttered with shit?”

  Jon laughed. “I’ve had worse.”

  “Ha, I doubt that,” Cassidy scoffed. She rolled her silverware from its napkin nest, then sat the napkin on her lap and said, “So, after all the suspense, your story better be good.”

  “All my stories are good,” Jon said. “That’s why they pay me to tell them.”

  Cassidy shook her head. “Nope. They pay writers to tell them. They pay you to be pretty, and show people who are too lazy to read what the stories look and sound like.”

  Jon laughed.

  Ryan returned to the table with a glass of water for Jon and milk for Cassidy. “I forgot to ask if you wanted coffee.”

  “That’d be great,” Jon said. “I’ll take mine black, please.”

  “No thanks,” Cassidy said.

  Ryan left the table.

  Jon took a sip of water, then turned back to Cassidy. “Do you remember the junior trip to D.C.?”

  “Of course. The optional trip that cost a million dollars and only fuckers from Cedar Park could afford to go?”

  Jon said, “Most of the class came, Cassidy. More than 2/3. And half of the trip was paid for by the school.”

  Cassidy sipped her water, ignoring Jon’s facts.

  “Look, it sucks that you guys couldn’t go. But being away from Sarah for that long, well, that’s when I knew. Sure, we left the island all the time for family vacations and stuff like that, but I’d never been away from Sarah for so long in a place where she should have been, too. And seriously, I ached.” Jon laughed. “I couldn’t get her off my mind the entire time we were gone. Remember when we came back, the picnic we had that weekend?”

  Cassidy nodded.

  “The second I saw Sarah step onto the grass, I wanted to drop to one knee and ask her if she’d marry me. Totally ridiculous. I barely had my driver’s license.” He shook his head, laughing. “So I guess that’s when I knew.”

  Cassidy let Jon’s story sit for a moment, and then said, “So what’s next?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “For you, for everything . . . for Emma.” She left out the other part of the question she was also wondering — what was next for them? Had this been a fling? Or was there something real between them worth exploring? Given that she hated him just a week ago, a relationship with Jon Conway seemed unlikely, if not impossible. But she couldn’t stop thinking about their encounter.

  She didn’t think she was alone in feeling something.

  “Oh,” Jon said.

  “I know it’s not exactly pleasant,” Cassidy said, “but this shit needs to be hashed. Are you planning to tell Emma that you’re her father, take her with you back to California, or are you going to stay here on the island?”

  Some part of her wished he would stay, and they could live together like one big, weird family. She felt foolish for even allowing the thought to enter her mind.

  She felt more foolish when Jon shook his head, exactly like she expected.

  “I’ve no idea what’s next. I haven’t read this script yet.” He managed half an anemic laugh. “I’m not sure what the right thing to do is. Whatever it is, it has to be right for Emma. I have no right to abandon her needs in pursuit of my own.” He took a sip of water. “On the other hand, I can’t ignore my responsibility, and I’m surprised to say I’m looking forward to carrying it.”

  Jon sipped at his water, then sucked on an ice cube, as though he were considering every syllable inside his next sentence. Finally, he set his glass on the table, pushed it toward the center and said, “I don’t want to tear Emma away from the only family she’s ever known. But I also think she has every right to know who her father is.” Then, measuring his words, Jon leaned toward Cassidy and said, “What did Sarah tell Emma? About her father, about me?”

  Cassidy shrugged. “Not much. Though I guess you could say she never really lied, either. She told Emma that her daddy was the sort of daddy who could probably never be able to stay in one place. And that just because he was never around and that Emma had never met him, didn’t mean he was a bad person. She said he had important things to do in the world.”

  Cassidy wiped at her eyes. “Emma asked her mom a million times if she’d ever get to meet her daddy. Sarah never changed her answer, no matter how many times Emma changed the way she asked.”

  “What was her answer?”

  “Yes, probably.”Cassidy shrugged. “I guess she figured it was only a matter of time until you came back to the island and she’d work up the courage to tell you.”

  Cassidy couldn’t tell if Jon looked hurt or angry or a little of both.

  He said, “I’m going to tell her the truth. She deserves to know.”

  “No argument from me.” Cassidy lifted her milk as if in a cheers, and took a sip.

  Inside, she was terrified.

  Emma was Cassidy’s best, and perhaps final, connection to Sarah. That connection was quickly slipping.

  Dark was about to get darker, which meant sleeping with Jon was more than a maybe of a mistake.

  The enemy hadn’t just pitched a tent in her bed, she’d let his sleeping soldier play. She never should have listened to her lust.

  Except it wasn’t lust. There was a kindness in Jon she could only ignore by lying to herself.

  Who was she kidding? Jon would never share a Happily Ever After with her. Not in Hollywood or anywhere else.

  Cassidy pushed her chair from the table.

  “Where are you going?”

  She said, “You know how your food always comes to the table when you go to the restroom?”

  Jon laughed. “Yeah, I guess.”

  “I’m going to make that happen.”

  Cassidy left the table, went into the restroom, pulled two pills from her pocket, then swallowed.

  * * * *

  CHAPTER 6 — Alex Heller

  Wednesday afternoon…

  As Pastor Avery delivered his sermon, Alex couldn’t help but remember the dozens of people huddled outside the funeral home when they arrived — the victims’ families, local and national news reporters, and a few demonstrators waving signs with blood red ink which read, “Murderer.”

  Fortunately, Paladin guards were standing at the gates along with some of the island’s police, doing all they could to hold the people back.

  But they couldn’t keep the people from screaming obscenities at Alex and his family. Twenty-five steps from car to funeral home was twenty-three more than Alex needed to taste the hate bleeding from the eyes of people he’d known nearly all of his life.

  Alex had never hated people more than he did at that moment.

  Give him a gun and he could see himself following in his father’s legacy.

  Alex understood their anger. Hell, he even shared their fury toward his father. But they had to recognize that his family was not responsible for the sins of his father. Th
e shooting certainly wasn’t the execution of some sinister plot set in motion by the Heller family including baby Aubrey, the ringleader.

  The tragedy hadn’t just affected them, it had robbed Alex of a father, his mom of a husband, and his sister of ever knowing her father.

  It was a suck sandwich all around, and no amount of anger would make it any easier to swallow.

  As they had entered the funeral home, Alex glanced back and saw the video cameras targeting his family. Struck with an aching sadness for his mother and sister, he mouthed the words, “I’m sorry” to whoever might be watching them on TV, on the off chance that his message might be well received; that it might soften the pain or dull the wrath of a raging mob.

  As he sat, listening to Pastor Avery speechify forgiveness for thy neighbor, even as he acts against you, Alex had to stifle a laugh.

  Avery should be giving his speech to the people out there, not in here.

  He wondered if God really forgave murderers. Hell, Alex wasn’t even sure if his dad believed in God. And if there were indeed a Hell, then his father was surely burning in it.

  Alex glanced at his mother, wiping tears with a tissue as her eyes were locked on the pastor. Aubrey sat in her lap, sipping from a bottle, oblivious to her dead father sitting in the bottom of a canister, front and center of the room.

  Despite his countless questions of faith, Alex closed his eyes and prayed to a God, who may or not have been up in Heaven, to forgive his father for any sins he’d committed on Earth.

  Please, God. If you’re up there, please forgive my dad. He was one of the kindest people in the world. He was always helping anyone who needed a hand, always setting the needs of his family and students ahead of his own.

  He’s not the monster people think he is.

  He’s good. I swear.