ACT ONE - 1984

   JULY 1984 - THE DAY BEFORE

I knew they were making conversation, but I wasn't sure I cared to partake. I zoned out, hyper-focusing on the sounds of silver forks scraping against the china, and the savoury tinge of the food in front of me.

Family meals were never my thing. Once upon a time, I tried to enjoy them- being my usually chatty self, eager to tell my family all about my day. But as I got older, and they stopped pretending they cared about me, I stopped bothering to try.

Beverly laughed, her flashy white teeth presenting themselves to the rest of the table. She seemed to be having a conversation with Tommy, who was making large and theatrical gestures with his hands, obviously accentuating the most likely boring story. I rolled my eyes at the sight.

"You're not eating?" Sarah inquired from across the wooden table, her eyes practically burning holes into my head.

She was subtlety scolding me, like she had been my whole life. I lifted a spoonful to my mouth, lightly sipping on the soup. As I lowered the empty spoon back down, I didn't bother to bring up another. I wasn't hungry, I rarely was around these people because they always had me on edge.

Sarah took note of my standoffish behaviour, briskly painting in her sweetest smile and changing the subject at the table.

"Oli's maintained her average another year. She'll most likely graduate with honours next year" My older sister praised, diverting her attention towards the man at the head of the table.

I took a deep breath and looked towards Oscar as well, the corners of my mouth lifting as much as I could manage.

He hummed a bit, finishing the last of the liquid in front of him and nodding his head. "Good. Just in time for the Olympics." He stated flatly.

I frowned, once again upset. He was always cold like this to me, which is why Sarah always attempted to warm things up. Why she kept at it all these years was unbeknownst to me though, as it had yet to work.

"Aren't you proud Daddy?" She singsonged, her smile not faltering, unlike mine and Oscar's.

My nose scrunched at her wording, eyes falling back onto the once warm soup. I'd been neglecting it since it was placed in front of me, that it was no longer steaming. He wasn't proud. He didn't have to say it for me to know.

The man cleared his throat, clearly bothering Sarah, who finally let her honey grin fall slightly. Tommy smirked at me from across the table, clutching Esther's hand in his, flashing her shiny new engagement ring. He'd been side glancing me all night, enough for me to guess he had something up his sleeve. That just left me to anticipate what it was.

"Olivia." My father called, catching my attention back towards the head of the table.

A small twinge in my mind hoped he'd answer Sarah's previous question, but once he continued, I realized that was not the case.

"Speaking of Olympics, Tommy tells me you've roomed with your little druggie." Oscar wondered, though like everything else he said, it sounded like a statement.

I huffed, letting go of my spoon and putting my hands into my lap, "And where, pray tell, did Tommy get that information?" I questioned, narrowing my eyes on my older brother.

"I just went by your apartment to drop something off in the mailbox, and I noticed not all the envelopes were addressed to you." Tommy replied, his smug grin making me more angry by the second.

"There's a lock on my mailbox." I said, the words tumbling out of my mouth faster than I could think. "How did you get in the mailbox?"

"Oli!" Beverly barked, "Stop interrogating your brother!"

My brows lifted, and a sarcastic chuckle escaped my lips, "My brother, or my stalker?" I inquired playfully.

"That's enough Olivia." Oscar warned, "Are you, or are you not, living with Clancy?"

I looked away briefly, those few seconds probably telling him all he needed to know, "Yeah, and? I'm an adult, I can live with who I choose."

Tommy scoffed, obviously expecting me give away other information.

When I didn't, Esther, his little partner in crime did it for me, "I heard they're dating-"

"Fuck you Tommy!" I spat, ignoring his fiancée and going right for the source.

"That's enough Olivia!" Oscar repeated, sending a glare in my direction, " I warned you to stay away. He's going to ruin your life. You're disappointing me, and you're disappointing this family."

Beverly nodded her dumbass head in agreement, platinum curls bobbing as she did so. I could see Sarah look awkwardly into her lap, feeling sorry for me, but not making any move to defend me.

"What else is new." I mumbled, slumping a bit into my chair.

Sarah gulped a bit of air, and put her sickly smile back on, "Why are we focusing on that when the Olympics are so close? We should be celebrating!" She attempted to lighten the permanently heavy mood.

My poor sister was too optimistic to be a Banks.

Sneaking one last glance at Oscar, I studied every detail of his stature. Based on years of being yelled at, I'd gotten pretty good at telling when it was going to happen. He seemed to be tense, and it was obvious he was looking for the next thing to say to me.

I couldn't blame him for hating my stupid boyfriend and his stupid steroids he claimed he never did- but I could blame him for hating me.

Yanking the napkin out of my lap, I tossed it on to the table. It landed in the soup, absorbing the liquid almost immediately and turning the white fabric a yellow tinge, enough to make Beverly gasp over her overpriced serviettes.

Briskly, I lifted myself out of the chair and said, "I have to go."

Oscar shot me a dirty look as he gestured towards my seat. "Sit down. Lunch just started. Don't be rude."

I scoffed and pushed my chair back so I could start towards his end of the table, "Don't talk to me about rude." I muttered, luckily not loud enough for him to hear before raising my voice, "I have work."

Exiting out first dining room via the archway behind Oscar's seat, I ignored his calls for me to return to our table. Footsteps carried on behind me, not heavy enough to be Oscar's or Tommy's, and they didn't click the way Beverly's did; Sarah was following me, just like she always did.

Her light hand lied nicely on my shoulder, halting my power walk towards the door for a moment, "Oli, it's alright. I'm sure you have a little time before work."

My chest heaved up and down in a sigh, eyes flickering up to meet hers. Sarah looked at me hopefully, her words usually able to draw me back into the lion's den that was the Bank's family- but not this time.

"He's never going to change Sar. You know it as well as I do." I reminded.

"Not if we keep going like this no. You know how to prevent this. You just choose not to." My sister whispered, pulling me behind a wall so there was more privacy for our conversation.

My eyes widened a little in shock, "You're blaming this on me?"

"Well when you go out of your way to deliberately make him mad- Yeah. I think that is your fault." She revealed.

Lips pursed, I gave her a shake of my head, "What did I do this time? Because of Chet? I don't understand how that's any of their business."

"No, no. It's not- It's just- He's just worried about you. He wants you to live a good life." She smiled at me.

I didn't understand how she could be the oldest, but still be so naive. Oscar wanted me on a leash before I could tarnish his reputation- If that meant my life was shit, he'd still take it.

"Yeah, a life by his rules. I won't put up with it. I'm 21, I'm not a child anymore." I told her curtly, shrugging her hand off my shoulder and turning back in the direction of the front door, "Now I have to go, I have work."

I heard her sigh, though I chose not to look back. I knew she was just as disappointed.

"Okay. Have a good day Oli" She replied.

I nodded. "You too Sarah."

✗✗✗

I hated Hidden Hills. Every house I passed, every neighbor I was forced to wave at- All I could feel was judgement. I approached the exit, relief running loose through my body when I finally turned in the direction of Los Angeles.

I didn't have work, I was just hoping the manager would give me something if I showed up at the studio. I'd done it a million times, and he always had something for me to do, so it wasn't a long shot. Plus I knew my friends would be at a class around the same time I got there, glancing at the clock on the dash of my car.

Hidden Hills was nearly an hour from Los Angeles, something I both loathed and loved. Loved because the time gave me a minuscule of space from my overbearing family- But loathed because of the drive I had to make there and back at least once a month.

Cyndi Lauper's "Time After Time" sung from the radio, finding myself drumming my fingertips against the steering wheel. I didn't care for this song, but I had to admit it was a nice distraction from what went down in my house. Removing one of my hands from the wheel, I reached forwards to click open the glove box. Slipping out a pack of Camels, I utilized the next red light to place one of the tubes in my mouth and give it a quick light.

A couple cigarettes later, and I had finally reached the city I'd grown to love. In just a couple minutes I could be at the studio, if the traffic was perfect. I let out a laugh at the thought- Traffic was never perfect in LA.

Lucky for me, the middle of the day seemed to be a good time to drive around, and in no time I was pulling into my designated parking spot at the back of the building. I exited my car, glancing down to remind myself what I was wearing. I'd dressed a little more "PG" then usual for the lunch, in a pair of acid jeans and an equally washed out jacket; The less skin I showed, the less glares I'd get from Beverly.

My friends would think it was weird though, so I slipped off the denim jacket and tossed it into the passenger seat, locking my car and heading for the employee door.

Sitting out back, a cigarette of his own dangled from my manager's lips; He always seemed to be on a smoke break. He gave me a light shake of his head, taking a drag of the butt and exhaling a bit. "It's like you want to live here Banks." He commented.

He was kind of right- I was literally always here. But I liked to work, it was always the best distraction.

"I don't even have to clock in. Just let me wipe a couple counters or something." I offered, adjusting the thick strap of my tank tap nervously.

He sighed, smoke leaving his nostrils as he tilted his head in the direction of the door, "Go. Work behind the snack counter."

I grinned, thanking him profusely and heading into the building. I practically rushed around the back so I could get there quicker, grabbing a rag and a bottle of disinfectant on the way.

I exited the last door into the reception area, glancing over to the snack area, not surprised to find the three knuckleheads lounging casually around it in anticipation of Xavier's class.

I smirked, brushing past Chet as I walked behind the counter, his head whipping in surprise to see me there, "I didn't know you worked today, I thought you had that lunch." He wondered, Ray and Xavier's eyes trailing on to me as well.

I gave the counter a couple sprays before moving to wipe the droplets away and took a deep breath before replying. I wasn't going to tell let him know that my dad knew about us- At least not right now.

"I did, but I left early. I'd rather be here anyway." I said with a shrug.

"Aw," He cooed, and I saddled myself up for one of his jokes, "What's the matter Baby Banks? Chef didn't cook the caviar the way you like?"

My lips quirked into a smirk, gaze lifting from the rag in front of me to meet his eyes, "Tasted better than the steroids you probably had for lunch." I quipped.

His face dropped, my remark eliciting laughs from our two friends. I giggled a little too at my own joke, deciding last minute not to add the fact that you don't cook caviar.

"It's not funny Oli." Chet said, sending me a glare, though I knew he didn't mean it.

"It's kind of funny." Ray decided, causing Chet's glare to divert from me to him.

He faked a punch at the boy, Ray quickly retaliating as they descended into a dumb fake fight. Those two were such a pair, always getting into little competitions like this and annoying the rest of us that had to deal with them. Rolling my eyes and wiping the last of the spray from the counter, I turned to Xavier who looked just as unimpressed.

"Where's Montana?" I wondered, noting that my fellow blonde was no where to be seen.

His nose scrunched and waved his hand halfheartedly, "Locker room. You know- where we should be!" Xavier replied, raising his voice for the second part, startling the two idiots.

I chuckled, watching as they halted their little testosterone match to refocus on Xavier and I.

"Yeah right- See you after class?" Chet asked me, his eyes lighting up as he studied my face.

I smiled a bit, nodding in response. He leaned over the counter, pressing a light kiss to my forehead before patting Xavier's back twice and walking in the direction of the locker room.

Ray waved, following after Chet, leaving Xavier to send me a quick goodbye, falling in line behind the others.

I closed my eyes for a moment, basking in the lasting joy I felt around my friends. I was glad I left lunch early. Otherwise I'd be stuck taking criticism from a man I wasn't sure would ever love me the way he was supposed to. I might've been spraying tables and working, but it was always better than that alternative.

✗✗✗

THE BANKS MANSION
— LATER THAT NIGHT.

"You heard Sarah. End of the semester, she'll probably be celebrating, and distracted. Taking her out'll be easier." Tommy smirked, standing in a secluded area of the large house with his father.

The older man hushed his son, "Watch your volume. No one can know about this."

"Come on dad. You want her gone, Mom wants her gone, and I want her gone. Those are just her family members. I'm not sure anyone'll care to lose Olivia Banks" The brunette boy assured.

"What about that boyfriend of hers? He wasn't a factor until today." Oscar worried. Of course he was paranoid. This wasn't a plan that could afford to go wrong.

Tommy shook his head, the smug look on his face not faltering for a second, as if it had been permanently etched on to his face.

"I've been following them for weeks. I know their schedule, he won't be a problem."

Oscar nodded, taking a chance at what Tommy was saying. If this was going to work, he needed to have not only faith, but trust in his son.

"I want it done tomorrow. We can use the Olympics to bury it in the news. Pretend she's just another victim of the Night Stalker."

Tommy nodded at his father's request, "I can make that happen."