Chapter One-The First Part A
Title: What Happens in the Penthouse Stays in the Penthouse. Chapter 1, Part A 1/10
Words: 2905/73,138
Author: suerum
Fandom: General Hospital
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Jason/Spinelli, non-slash
Spoilers: This is set back in the fall of 2008 and there is some reference made to the current mob situation in Port Charles at that time, otherwise none.
Warnings: There are many corpses scattered throughout this piece as well as violence involving the central characters
Summary: It’s Halloween night and Spinelli is planning to spend a romantic evening with Maxie at a costume party when he stumbles across a dead body in the penthouse. His plans are indefinitely shelved as he and Jason deal with their unexpected visitor. The night involves a series of bizarre and increasingly nerve wracking events while they try to evade nosy neighbors and solve the mystery.
Chapter 1, Part A: The First
Spinelli walked into the Penthouse singing ‘The Way You Look Tonight.’ He loved the standards; he had found his great grandfather’s collection of pristinely preserved 33 rpm records in the attic when he was ten and had never looked back. He loved them all Frank, Cole, Ella, Judy, and of course Sassy-the divine Sarah Vaughan. He sang along with them learning all the words and dancing through the house much to his grandmother’s disgust.
She herself was a product of her time and place, keeping the kitchen radio perpetually tuned to country and bluegrass stations. Neither ever won the war because Spinelli could out sing her but she could make him turn the record player off because ‘it was her house, her rules’. So, he mostly indulged himself when she wasn’t home and later by joining the school choir. It was one of the few places in the community and school where he felt truly happy and valued.
Since coming to Port Charles he had tamped down his tendency towards spontaneously singing some evocative classic. He instinctively knew that he wouldn’t like the expression on Stone Cold’s face if he ever heard him expressing himself via song. Also, such behavior certainly wouldn’t aid him in his ongoing search for ‘manly prowess.’
Occasionally he couldn’t control himself and he still sang in the shower. It seemed that what his regrettably pink bedroom lacked in aesthetics was more than made up for by the bathroom’s amazing acoustics. Some days he really let loose and on those particular mornings when he came downstairs, he didn’t dare look Stone Cold in the eye. If he had looked he would have seen a mixture of bemusement, pride, and humor. Yet, Jason knew how embarrassed Spinelli would be if he said anything and so he held his peace. Still, those mornings were the same ones Jason often went to work unaware that he was humming.
Tonight was different though because he had a date with Maxie. While he wasn’t sure exactly what she would be wearing; he knew that the way she would look and everything she would do would be eminently memorable, precisely as the song said. He was just, well, simply put…happy! It was wonderful to have this straightforward, uncomplicated joy welling up inside him. The only truly real and appropriate way he wanted to express it was through the lyrical words and tunes of a time when people seemed to be able to freely articulate romantic love.
Singing, twirling, bouncing and hopping he made his way up to his fuchsia room and into the bathroom. He was going to sing his lungs out, one tune after another. Stone Cold was out on business and he needed to get ready before Maxie came by with the outfit she wanted him to wear tonight. He fervently hoped that she wasn’t going to want him to dress up in an animal costume or-he shuddered dramatically at the thought-tights. Still, even if she brought him a bright pink bunny costume to wear, he would squelch his pride and put it on.
Tonight was doubly important to Maximista. It was the launch of the first annual Crimson Halloween Gala and much more importantly-Maximista’s birthday! Last year everyone had been running around Wyndemere being chased by crazy Anthony Zacchara and the even crazier text message killer. Emily Quartermaine had died in the ensuing melee and Stone Cold still carried that tragic loss in his eyes. So, for everyone’s sake, but most importantly for Maximista’s, Spinelli wanted this to be a night of fun and frolic. It would be a magical, bubbly evening that they could both carry forward into the future as a special memory.
As he stood in front of the bathroom mirror brushing his teeth, there was a creaking noise and the bathroom door began to slowly swing closed. Openmouthed, with toothpaste dribbling down his chin, Spinelli tried to make sense of what he was seeing reversed and reflected in the mirror. He closed his eyes and shook his head as he denied the possibility that he could be seeing what was revealed. Slowly, he cracked open one eye and then the next to find it was still there. Spinelli swiveled around convinced that he had been hallucinating and when he looked at the door directly he-it-would be gone. There was no such luck to be had, hanging from the bathroom door hook was an extremely large, extremely dead-there wasn’t any more of a more appropriately descriptive term than-goon.
Spinelli, his forgotten toothbrush clutched in his hand, sidled cautiously up to the dead man. He was large but due to what appeared to be a well defined musculature rather than adipose tissue. The corpse was dressed in a cheap grey suit with an unattractive blue waffle tie that was stained and frayed. His iron grey hair was cut short and his large spherical head seemed to be attached directly to his shoulders. Spinelli automatically dubbed him ‘No Neck Decedent’ as he continued his appraisal. The man’s eyes were bloodshot and bulging and his tongue was protruding unattractively from the side of his mouth. If the man had printed up business cards proclaiming himself to be Joe E. Mobster, it couldn’t have been any clearer the line of work he had pursued. From the look of things, Spinelli was pretty sure there was a ligature mark somewhere on that nonexistent neck-he had been strangled.
His head was spinning, there was a dead man hanging on his bathroom door. Then a thought came to him, ‘Could Stone Cold have started bringing his work home with him?’
As soon as the thought passed through his brain he dismissed it, this wasn’t Stone Cold’s style. Even if he had done such a thing, which he hadn’t, he would never have put the body in the Jackal’s bathroom, not where he performed his intimate ablutions. Or if he had, which he hadn’t, he would have at least told the Jackal. Stone Cold would have left a voice mail or an e-mail (well, maybe not that) or at least a note on the coffee table.
Something along the lines of, ‘Hey, Spinelli things have been hectic lately and I had to store some “files”-wink, wink, nudge, nudge-upstairs in your bathroom. I’ll take care of it-them-when I get a chance, Jason.’
Spinelli shook his head in disbelief, it wasn’t possible and there definitely must be another explanation. Well, the first thing he better do was call his master. This was much more than a poor little grasshopper should ever be expected to deal with and there was still his date with Maxie to consider.
Just then the doorbell unexpectedly rang causing him to jump, lose his balance and fall forward into the stiff embrace of his uninvited guest. The collision caused a balance shift and the No Neck Decedent was pulled off the hook and collapsed onto a squirming Spinelli, who immediately tried in vain to push the literal dead weight up off of him.
“Ugh! Ugh! Get off, Get off!” he pleaded in a muffled voice as he tried to get out from under this undesired, intimate bodily contact.
He was starting to hyperventilate when, with a huge push of adrenalin fueled energy, he managed to roll out from under the corpse. He immediately jumped up, quivers of disgust running up and down his muscles as he swayed back and forth, trying to decide if he could keep from vomiting. Shrilly and impatiently the doorbell sounded again.
He turned and ran frantically out of the bathroom because he remembered that the front door was unlocked. If anyone walked in and found the dead intruder, there would be unimaginable consequences for both Stone Cold and himself. He skidded onto the landing and threw himself down the stairs just reaching the front door as the handle began to turn. With cat like reflexes that he never even knew he possessed; he grabbed the handle on his side and opened the door just wide enough so that he could look out at whoever was standing on the exterior of the door. Ordinarily the sight of his visitor would have brought a goofy grin to his face and an immediate invitation to enter the humble abode he shared with Stone Cold. Yet, under these fraught circumstances his primary response was a feeling of unmitigated dismay.
“Ah Maximista!” he sidled out through a crack in the door and crossing his arms and legs attempted to appear nonchalant as he formed a living barricade in order to prevent ingress into the penthouse. “To what do I owe the honor of a visit from your gracious loveliness?” he panted as he tried to recover from his recent trials and exertions.
“Spinelli!” Maxie said glaring at him through narrowed eyes, “What’s up with you? I’ve been standing out her for like the last ten minutes waiting for someone to answer the door. Why are you breathing like that?” She continued suspiciously, “What is going on in there?” She tried to reach past him and grab the door handle to enter into the penthouse. “Let me in Spinelli, this stuff is heavy!” Maxie said getting more irritated by the moment as he continued to block her entrance.
Spinelli tried frantically to think of some reason to keep her from coming in, “Um, now is not a good time Maximista, the Jackal, well, he’s busy and cannot be interrupted…”
“Not a good time!” She retorted as her voice raised several octaves. “Damian Spinelli is there someone in there you don’t want me to see?” The petite blonde renewed her determined attempts to get through the door and he had to keep moving around to block her.
“Well,” he started to say sheepishly until one look at her face caused him to back up against the door in fear of what she was contemplating. Suddenly, inspiration struck and he tried to laugh offhandedly though it came out more as a nervous cough. “Actually, has Maximista forgotten what day this is?”
Maxie stopped her frontal assault on both Spinelli and the door and cocked her head at him, doubt still radiating out of her eyes. “Sure, it’s Halloween, that’s why I’m here to deliver your costume,” she held up a garment bag and toed a previously unnoted hat box sitting on the floor.
“Oh, my heavens!” he thought to himself. Spinelli had entirely forgotten about the Crimson party. His earlier concerns about what his costume might entail seemed a distant and pleasant memory. If the unwanted upstairs visitor would simply vanish, he would gladly wear a codpiece, tutu and a papier mache frog’s head and call it a worthwhile exchange. He realized that Maxie was growing impatient again and so he quickly said, “Yes, of course the costume party but that isn’t what the Jackal meant. No, he was speaking as to the much more prominent and vital meaning of this date-it is Maximista’s natal day!”
For a brief moment puzzlement reigned on Maxie’s face as she deciphered what he had just said; then a shy smile slowly curved up her lips. “Spinelli, you remembered!”
“Of course the Jackal remembered. It is a date circled in red on his calendar.” Now that Spinelli knew how to keep her out of the penthouse he proceeded more confidently, “The Jackal was preparing a birthday treat for Maximista and it is out in plain view in the living room and that is why you cannot enter.”
“But it’s already my birthday,” she coyly pouted, “Let me see what it is.”
“No, no,” Spinelli responded a tad desperately, “The time isn’t right, you’ll receive your surprise at the appointed hour and not a millisecond sooner.”
He hoped the simple pendant set with her birthstone, an opal, would be enough of a gift to satisfy all this intrigue and suspense he was creating. Spinelli was pretty sure he wasn’t going to have any free time this evening to find anything more extravagant.
“That is so sweet!” Maxie seemed to accept his explanation and handed him the garment bag and the hat box. “I hope you like your costume,” she giggled, “I picked it out just for you.”
“The Jackal knows he will be entranced by anything personally chosen for him by the fair one.” He responded with automatic gallantry as he relieved her of her burden. “When and where shall we meet to embark upon the evening’s festivities?”
“Nine o’clock on the dot at the Metro Court Sky Lounge, and Spinelli?” The sharp toned Maxie had returned, “Don’t be late, I want this evening to be perfect.”
“Your wish is the Jackal’s command!” He watched her enter the elevator.
Then as the adrenalin faded from his system his legs gave way and he slid to the floor with his back to the door. Groaning, he crossed his arms on his knees and cradled his head in his hands. How on earth was he ever going to get through this night?
Jason’s ‘business’ for the evening involved a cold bottle of beer and a cue stick. He was whiling away the evening at Jake’s and playing a desultory game of pool with Coleman. Every time someone needed a refill or more to the point, an unescorted woman entered the bar, Coleman would leave to tend to his bartending duties. Then five, ten or fifteen minutes later, he would wander back and the game would start again.
Jason considered what he was really doing here. After all, he could have played a faster game with himself at home. The beer in hand would certainly have been better quality and cheaper than the stuff Coleman was palming off as an imported Belgian brew.
“It was more likely imported from a beer making kit in the filthy back bathroom!” Jason snorted to himself with irritation.
No, if he were to be honest with himself, he was at Jake’s because he was hiding out. Sometimes he just needed a break from all things Spinelli, or at least the new Spinelli that seemed to come prepackaged with Maxie Jones. Ruefully, Jason admitted to himself that if Spinelli wasn’t so constantly either with Maxie, talking about Maxie or clearly thinking about Maxie, he would have been happier.
Don’t get him wrong, he saw how much the kid loved that snippy blonde and God help her if she broke his heart the way Lulu had or even how Georgie had by dying and leaving him in misery. He didn’t want to have to pick up the ravaged pieces of Spinelli’s heart one more time. He wasn’t sure his own heart could take it. Besides, he knew enough to see that what Spinelli felt for Maxie was on a scale exponentially greater than he had felt for either of the other girls.
The only thing that enabled him to keep quiet and not issue a warning to Spinelli to watch himself around the little minx, was the fact that he was pretty sure Maxie felt everything that Spinelli did and in spades. He guessed she was petrified of admitting those feelings, even to herself, given her lousy relationship track record. Jason couldn’t really be judgmental about Maxie hiding how she felt since he had been doing the same thing with regard to Elizabeth. Still, he found it nerve wracking to watch Spinelli constantly hand his heart up on a platter to only have it returned on a skewer dripping blood…
Spinelli had been in a great state of excitement in the days leading up to tonight’s events. He had been more hyperactive and talkative than Jason could ever remember. It was Maxie’s birthday this and the Crimson party that until Jason’s eyes had glazed over and his ears had shut down. It was only the fact that he never made more than minimal responses to Spinelli’s conversational gambits which prevented the young man from recognizing that his mentor’s presence was only physical. Thus, he didn’t realize that every detail he was so eagerly relaying was evaporating unheard into the ether.
So, Jason had decided to absent himself from the penthouse tonight. He wanted to allow Spinelli the opportunity to get ready for his special evening with his Maximista without Stone Cold around to act as a wet blanket. He recognized that the unsettled sensations he was currently feeling were a peculiar mix of guilt and regret. He felt badly because he hadn’t been there for Spinelli the way he should have been, in the way Spinelli absolutely would have been there for Jason if their situations were reversed. In addition, part of him was actually wondering about the costume Maxie would pick out for him, wanted to see him dressed and ready to go off with his lady for the evening, maybe (and this was worst of all) even take a picture of him as a keepsake.
Sighing, Jason put down his unfinished beer on the edge of the pool table; he knew when a battle was lost. He tossed down enough money to meet his tab along with a tip for Coleman. Nodding at the bartender, who was obliviously chatting up a pneumatic blonde, he headed out the door. He would go home, check in with Spinelli, perhaps help him with his cufflinks or something but there would be no picture. Already he felt better; he realized he had made the right decision.
Chapter 1, Part B