The Seven Pieces of a Feuilleton

Chapter 11

If he hadn't already been on a mission before, he was certainly on one now.

No one made his sister cry. No one.

A random bartender at a club whom Brenda said she had never seen before, yet had somehow known her to once be with child and indicated a connection to Stuart, had to be involved in what happened that night.

Brandon was going to track that asshole down.

He first called up Finn, casually, without revealing the exact reason for his call. His future brother-in-law had regretfully informed him that he had neglected to get the name of the club or pay for anything at the club that would include a receipt. Finn had given him the area of Los Angeles that the club could be found, which failed to help in Brandon's search, for the neighborhood held a multitude of clubs connected to the Carson brood and other notable players in LA.

He couldn't ask his twin. She had been moments away from again shutting down on him and Dylan, a painful reminder of the shattered sister he had seen before she left for Paris. He worried that asking her would be her breaking point and that next time, no one would be able to bring her back.

But there were two others he could enlist in his quest who would perhaps be equally as helpful.

"Brothers! Thanks for coming." He reached over the table to fistbump David and initiate the secret handshake with Steve that they had begun back in high school.

"Of course, bro. You said it was urgent." Steve lifted an eyebrow, his lips closing upon the straw of his soda.

"It is urgent. It's extremely urgent," Brandon answered, turning to tell the waitress his order - the usual, a megaburger with fries and a milkshake which one could only find in a greasy spoon on the classic side of LA.

It had been a long time since he had stepped into the Peach Pit; yet, the diner of his adolescent days had barely changed at all. Still had the same black-and-white pictures on the wall, telling the story of Hollywood throughout the decades. Still had the neon jukebox in the corner, currently blasting a song from the seventies. The floor tiles had been repaired, he could see. The menu had been redesigned, but the food choices were left unchanged. And, he noticed with a proud smile, there still sat the encased shirt stitched with his name.

"Anything we can help you with, man, you know we'll do it." David swiped his fry into his ketchup.

"What he said," Steve nodded.

"Here's the thing, though." Brandon clasped his hands on the table and set his gaze upon both. "I can't tell you why I'm about to ask you to do what I'm about to ask you to do."

He and Dylan were already firmly in the line of fire when Brenda learnt of their secret search. He didn't need to have her understandable wrath aimed at his other brothers, too.

"Ooh, a mystery," Steve grinned. "I approve. Does Janet get to wear a trench coat?"

"You'll use anything to convince Janet into a trench coat."

"C'mon, Silver, you can't tell me you wouldn't pay to see your girl in a trench coat. Janet would make a fucking hot Nancy Drew." Steve paused. "Then again, Nancy Drew is already fucking hot and you can't tell me she wasn't banging a Hardy boy. Dude, can I be one of the Hardy boys?"

"Please tell me you didn't tell Hannah that when she did that book report on Nancy Drew," David groaned.

"I plead the fifth," Steve answered, digging into his food.

Brandon felt the conversation canoeing away from him, especially when David informed them that Valerie had indeed worn a trench coat.

He jumped back in before David could share what exactly, if anything, she had worn underneath that trench coat.