The Sins of the Seven 06 Faithfulness: Brad, Sierra, Paige, Richard & Alex
Faithful are the wounds of a friend.
Enjoy the sixth chapter of Rhodes Ave. Press’ novel, The Sins of the Seven.
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423 Hackberry St, Lockhart, TX, April 1989
Brad laid on her bed resting against the headboard while her best friend, Jenny McCoy, bounded about Brad’s room with plastic bags from the local Rexall overflowing with makeup, cans of hair spray and other various items of Jenny’s prom preparedness sweep.
Through the cracked bedroom door, Brad could see her mother approaching in her pink bathrobe. Her mother held the family’s hulking camcorder holstered on her shoulder as she quietly narrated, “Jenny and Brad are getting ready for the prom. Brad’s date, Jeremy will be here soon.”
“Mom, stop,” Brad barked as her mother filmed Brad. “Bradley,” her mother cooed in a hushed tone, “We have to film our baby’s first prom!”
“Mommmm,” Brad moaned as she shut the crack in the door. “‘Mom, stop,’ Brad barked, shutting the door as she fought back a surge of anger. In that moment, she wished she could erase the reminders of a past that never quite fit.
“God,” Brad sighed as she plopped down on the bed next to Jenny. “She’s such a psycho.”
“What?” Jenny asked, “She’s just proud. Its her baby’s first prom,” Jenny said in a mocking tone.
It wasn’t just a name, her name was a stain, a mark, and a constant searing reminder that they never believed in the woman Brad was meant to be. And that infuriated her.
“She’s just proud her daughter’s not a lesbian,” Brad replied, “I mean, what would the ladies at church say?” Brad said not feeling the sting of her mother’s pride but rather, feeling the crushing weight of it, that even in her most true self, Brad could never or would never be able to measure up even to the most disdainful of her mother’s suspicions.
Jenny looked at Brad quizzically as Brad replied, “She’s always going on and on about how I dress and about ‘how am I ever going to find a husband looking like that’ and ‘ladies should dress like ladies.’”
“And it’s alll so insane to me,” Brad said, “I mean they even gave me a boy’s name. I secretly think they wanted me to be a boy and when they didn’t get what they wanted they decided to give me a name that would remind me of that for the rest of my life.”
“It’s so insanely infuriating,” Brad said, “So I’m going to do my hair and makeup, wear heels and go to the prom with a boy just to make her happy.”
“Wait,” Jenny interjected, “you’re doing this just to make her happy?”
Brad nodded sheepishly as Jenny continued, “Well, I wouldn’t be a very good best friend if I let that happen.”
“So,” Jenny continued, “Here’s what we’re going to do.”
Jenny pulled Brad in close and whispered into her ear as both girls giggled, their shared secret blooming between them.
Lockhart High School, Lockhart, TX, April 1989
As Brad and Jeremy Golding swayed to the sounds of The Bangles’ Eternal Flame, Brad checked her watch to see it was close to 11 pm. Jenny would be pulling up around now. It was time to make her escape.
Brad pulled Jeremy close by the lapels of his periwinkle blue rented tux and whispered into his ear, “Ok, Prince Charming, my chariot awaits.”
“But, so soon?” Jeremy protested.
Brad bit her lip and responded, “Yeah, you know my mom is such a stickler for curfew,” Brad said letting the reverberation of her lie clear the way for her night of rebellion.
Brad pecked Jeremy softly on the cheek, a friendly kiss landed with extra care as to not send the wrong message to Jeremy who was really, truly, just a friend.
Jeremy was one of the few boys that Brad felt truly comfortable around, Brad had always considered herself just ‘one of the boys’ and Jeremy equally made her feel at ease in her gawky tomboyish ways by never putting her down or asking invasive off-putting questions like “do you ever wear makeup?” or “are you a boy or a girl?”
It seemed that all of Lockhart was brimming with such macho, hyper-masculine energy that Brad’s only potential model of what kind of girl she could be was in the overly-processed and overly-teased hair of her mother and the other church ladies who existed whipped into a constant blurring roulette of casseroles, PTA meetings, prayer groups and pearl-clutching.
In rejecting this sort of ingrained communal sense of femininity, Brad gravitated towards the men of Lockhart in the sense that they could wear what they wanted, act how they wanted and were never questioned otherwise. It was for this reason Brad gravitated towards 4H and shop class over home economics preferring to learn to work a table saw as opposed to setting a table.
As Brad approached the doors to the school gym, she hoped Jenny had kept up her end of their bargain and was indeed waiting outside ready to hit up Betsy McCoy’s party. As Brad threw open the doors to the parking lot, the cool April evening’s breeze lifted her hair off her shoulders.
“Psst, Brad,” Jenny said clutching a backpack just off the steps to the parking lot.
“Jenny,” Brad said, “Thank god, you’re here.”
Jenny threw her arms around Brad excitedly asking, “How was it? Was it every thing you hoped it would be?”
“I mean,” Brad said, “it was okay, but right now my biggest thought is getting out of these shoes.”
Jenny happily nodded and produced a pair of Keds from the backpack. Brad hiked her dress up around her knees and sat on one of the concrete barriers in the parking lot to swap shoes. As Brad settled into the comfort of the sneakers, she stood again letting her dress fall as she walked towards Jenny’s Geo Metro as she held her heels in her hand gripping them by the dainty straps.
As Jenny drove out of the school’s parking lot, Brad lowered the car window to breathe in the cool night air as Jenny floored the gas as the two girls rocketed down the street.
The whoosing air coming in through the cracked car window started to muss Brad’s hair. Brad flipped down the visor and began nervously fixing her hair before thinking, “fuck it” and closing the visor.
As Jenny and Brad drove toward the outskirts of Lockhart, Jenny queued up Janet Jackson’s “Miss You Much,” the crunching drums filling the cool night air. They pulled up in a suburban neighborhood on the edge of town, where rows of parked cars framed a modest house.
Stepping out, Jenny flashed a reassuring smile at Brad. “You went to prom just to make your Mom happy—now it’s time to make Brad happy. Enjoy yourself,” she said. Brad hugged her tightly in thanks.
Inside, the house buzzed with energy. Brad’s anxiety spiked as she took in the scene: girls in skimpy prom dresses flitted about, clutching cans of beer. “Where’s your sister?” Brad asked, scanning the room.
“Over there,” Jenny replied, pointing to the living room.
Brad turned to see Betsy McCoy wildly dancing atop a coffee table in 6-inch heels, hoisting a can of Lone Star high above her head. “Jenny!” Betsy called out over the music, waving for Jenny to join her. Jenny quickly grabbed Brad’s hand and led her toward the table. When Jenny offered her hand for a dance, Brad hesitated—until the boys surrounding the table urged her on with playful shouts.
Relenting, Brad climbed onto the table. “Give it up for my hot sister and her friend, Brad!” Jenny cheered as a boy from the sectional stepped forward with two cans of Lone Star. They cracked open the beers and began drinking. In her eagerness, Brad gulped too fast and the beer foamed out, splattering the table. She paused, then took a few steady sips to regain her cool while Jenny laughed.
Out of the corner of her eye, Brad noticed a boy in a Members Only jacket—his features strikingly reminiscent of Rob Lowe—staring at her. She waved casually, but her foot slipped on a slick of spilled beer. In slow motion, she tumbled off the table; her hand reached out for support as she braced for impact. Instead of crashing, she landed softly, aided by the gentle intervention of the boy.
“You took a little tumble there,” he said softly as he helped her to her feet.
“Wow, thank you,” Brad replied, a smile breaking through her embarrassment as she extended her hand.
“Nathan,” the boy introduced himself, his warm blue eyes steady on hers.
“I’m Brad,” she answered, feeling unexpectedly smitten.
“Are you okay?” Nathan asked, concern lacing his tone.
“I think I’ll be okay—I just need some fresh air,” Brad replied.
Nathan led Brad out to the back yard, where the cool night air and the soft strains of Madonna’s “Like A Prayer” provided a gentle reprieve. Draping his jacket over her shoulders, he asked tenderly, “Are you feeling any better?”
Brad glanced at her dress and sighed, “I did have a good prom, and the night just keeps getting more interesting.”
“Can I ask for this dance?” Nathan inquired, reaching for her hand.
Brad took it, and they swayed slowly, lost in a quiet moment of connection.
Their dance was interrupted when Jenny burst onto the patio, eyes fixed on her Swatch. “Brad, we gotta go—curfew’s coming!”
Brad sighed, “Sorry, Nathan, but curfew’s calling.”
Nathan smiled gently. “I get it. Go home safe—and watch out for any coffee tables from now on.”
Brad giggled, exchanged a fond look with Jenny, and together they left the house.
On the drive home, Brad reflected on how lucky she was to have Jenny by her side—a friend who lifted her up when she was down and helped her enjoy her first prom on her own terms.
In the weeks and months following that fateful night, Brad and Nathan began dating. Nathan’s quiet sensibility gave Brad a sense of ease and confidence she had rarely known around a boy.
Being around Nathan also allowed Brad to build up the confidence to begin making strides to wear girly clothes, makeup and taller shoes - not for the purposes of being more ‘girly’ for Nathan but rather to explore her newfound femininity.
Nathan turned out to be an avid cinephile who introduced Brad to all the greats, from Hitchcock to Truffaut to Kurosawa, Nathan exposed Brad to movies in a way she had never looked at before. This bit of exposure also lit a fire within Brad - the more she learned about movies, the more she fell in love with the actors, actresses and the craft of acting itself.
Spurred by this newfound love, Brad enrolled in Drama her senior year and starred in several productions like Grease, Cat on a Hot Tin Roof and Annie. So naturally, when it came time to pick a school to attend after graduation, Brad opted instead to enroll in the school of life, Brad would forego enrolling in a four year university and head to Los Angeles instead in search of stardom. Brad was graciously given a loan from her college fund by her parents in lieu of what they would have spent to send her away to school which she used as her “Fame fund.”
Leaving the confines of Lockhart, Brad felt a mix of liberation and lingering guilt, a prelude to the harsher realities of Hollywood waiting just around the corner.
NexTV Studios, Burbank, July 1993
Alex descended from his trailer into Artist’s Alley clutching his coffee cup. Just as Alex’s eyes adjusted to the blazing midday sun, the door to Paige’s trailer swung open as Paige bounded out towards Alex, her camera strung on its strap over her arm.
“Hi Paige,” Alex said happily as Paige smiled and jokingly lifted the camera to her eyes as if shooting him.
“Strike a pose you handsome devil,” Paige commanded. Alex winked at Paige as the two turned to head to the stage door. Stepping into the stage meant stepping out of the thick, soupy Burbank heat into the Arctic chill of the well-cooled stage. The feeling was like stepping out of a ball of blankets into an ice bath.
The stage lights meant to simulate sunlight were running on full boar causing the stage to be engulfed in artificial sunlight emanating from every corner. Paige and Alex turned to look at the dressed set for the day, the El Farralon set. The simulated sunlight bathed the bar set in a radiant amber glow, the angle of the light suggesting magic hour which caused the set’s potted palms to cast shadows across the set from their wide-set fronds.
Tim, stood at the edge of the set observing the scene as Alex and Paige approached. Tim turned to face them as Paige said, “Tim, I was hoping to shoot a few shots of Alex for the press kit on our lunch break.”
“May we?” Paige asked motioning towards the set.
Tim nodded and extended his hand offering Paige free rein of the set.
Alex and Paige walked towards the bar in the center of the set. Alex spun around and leaned against the bar looking out at the set.
“I never get to really see the set like this,” Alex said, “When it’s empty and all the people are gone. It kind of makes it all feel almost real, doesn’t it?”
As Alex’s gaze drifted around the set, he looked up to see Richard approaching.
“Hey guys,” Richard said with his trademark gruff growl.
“Still down for some help?”
“Of course, Richard” Paige and Alex said.
“What did you have in mind?” Paige asked.
“I wanted to ask you the same thing first,” Richard responded.
“I was thinking,” Paige continued, “Of shooting Alex behind the bar shaking up cocktails and maybe having him drenched in sunlight.”
“Perfect,” Richard said, “What if,” Richard continued as if giving Paige stage direction, “You stood over there and shot this way, I’ll sit on this barstool here,” Richard said motioning to one of the barstools by the bar.
“And you could maybe shoot over my shoulder?” Richard asked.
Paige looked somewhat confused as Richard clarified, “That way it will give this sort of sexy, mysterious composition. What do you think?”
“I like it,” Alex said.
“Okay,” Paige said, “Lets get you behind the bar.”
Alex stood behind the bar as Paige handed Alex a martini glass and a shaker.
Richard took his position on a barstool, his shoulder and left arm just barely entering frame with his hand on the bar top clutching the stem of the martini glass as if giving the shot an imposing and mysterious silhouette.
“Okay,” Paige instructed, “Alex, undo the top buttons on your shirt.”
Alex did as Paige instructed but Richard interjected. “Paige, do you think this sells enough sex as Howard mentioned?”
Paige thought for a moment before saying, “He’s shaking drinks, I’m not sure how sexy I can make the shot.”
Richard poked a finger in the air, asking, “May I?”
“Open to whatever you have to suggest,” Paige responded as Richard tugged at the corners of Alex’s collar and shirt getting him to look just ‘so.’
Okay, Alex,” Paige instructed, “Shake away.”
Alex raised the shaker over his head and began shaking back and forth before mimicking pouring the contents of the shaker into the martini glass and locking his gaze on Richard as he poured. Noticing this, Richard also shifted his position on the stool slightly to the side to draw Alex’s eye line to the side of the frame adding an additional layer of mystery to the composition.
The shot Richard, Paige and Alex had created had a distinctively dark, sexy, and seductive tone.
“Ok,” Paige said, “I think we got it.”
Alex, relieved, exhaled and untucked his shirt. “Thanks Paige,” he said before turning to Richard, “And thank you, sir.”
Richard nodded gallantly as the trio headed out to Artist’s Alley.
As Richard, Alex and Paige stepped out of the luxuriously cooled stage back onto the sweltering asphalt of Artist’s Alley, the heat was practically radiating off the concrete onto their faces.
“Want to share a smoke?” Richard asked Alex. Alex happily nodded and headed with Richard towards his trailer. As they approached the trailer, Richard said, “You want something to drink?”
Alex nodded and Richard bounded up the stairs into the trailer as Alex sat on the steps. A moment later Richard descended the steps and handed Alex a cold can of Diet Coke. Alex popped the tab and began taking cold sips of chilled relief.
Richard extended an open cigarette pack towards Alex as Alex slid out a cigarette and held it to his lips. Before Alex could produce his lighter Richard’s hand was already in front of his face holding a lit lighter.
Alex rocked forward and let the lighter light the tip of his cigarette. Alex leaned back on the stairs and watched the smoke curl into the sky as he exhaled.
“Thanks, Man,” Alex said. “I really appreciated your help and your eye in there.”
“That?” Richard replied, “Kind of the least I could do for you guys.”
“We are The Seven after all, not The One. I just let my selfish shit get totally out of control and I’m so sorry, man,” Richard said earnestly.
Alex felt his eyes welling with tears feeling Richard’s pain which felt like the first genuine and honest thing Richard had ever said.
“Well, I’m also sorry about you know,” Alex said while making a fist and mimicking a right hook.
“Ah that?” Richard said taken aback, “Kinda needed that one, your first was one of the things that woke me up from this sleep I’ve been in far too long.”
Alex smiled as Richard said, “Plus that mean right hook means you’re a real fighter, kid. I really admire that about you, you show a lot of strength and that’s not something I’m great at doing just yet.”
Alex smiled and extended his Diet Coke can to Richard as the two tapped their cans together, Alex happily saying, “I can drink to that.” The two sipped their Diet Cokes and turned their faces upwards towards the sun.
NexTV Studios, Burbank, August 1993
Brad entered the stage fully done with hair and makeup in a form-fitting black gown, her hair pulled up into a sort of Audrey Hepburn-style updo for a glam party scene at a Breakers Bay mansion that served as a fundraiser event to support the rebuilding of The Breakers which had burned down last season.
This was the most glamorous Brad had felt thus far filming Season 2. Most of what had been shot so far had Brad wearing jeans, tattered t-shirts and denim jackets save for the occasional wetsuit or short shorts and t-shirts when filming scenes teaching Jo’s surf lessons.
Season 2 found Brad’s Jo Byers escaping from the calamitous season finale fire unscathed but suddenly without a job whilst waiting for The Breakers to be repaired.
Luckily, Jo found salvation in Marion’s Jamie who takes Jo under her wing helping her launch her own surf instruction side business. But as with everything in Breaker’s Bay, Jamie’s altruism comes with strings attached. In this case, Jamie offers Jo startup money to launch her business and flexes her connections to help Jo become the go-to surf instructor for the children of Breakers Bay.
This bit of social circumnavigation puts Jo squarely into the orbit of Breaker Bay’s richest residents, this bit of positioning meant by the writers of the show to be a springboard into a dishy and sudsy potential affair with a wealthy suitor.
Stepping back from the storylines beginning to take shape before her eyes, Brad understood the writers’ intentions but was feeling a bit put out at the thought of being sidelined from the main story focus to become what she thought in her mind was becoming an extemporaneous character who’s sole purpose was to become the show’s home-wrecker du jour. Brad felt after her first season where Jo was so thoughtfully developed, that her destiny lie beyond becoming merely known as the “Whore of Babylon.”
Beyond the divergent storyline, Brad was also becoming increasingly envious of the other girls and their more “glam” storylines. It wasn’t just that the other girls had more centrally-focused stories but when they did, the girls were usually dripping in diamonds and couture as opposed to being relegated to wetsuits and drab casual wear.
Even Paige, whom Brad adored, went through some storyline ups and downs in Season 1 while the writers figured out how to best integrate her into the action.
But once Paige’s Beth found her rhythm, her storyline quickly gelled and she ended up becoming the central character in a sense becoming the figurehead of the “Who burned down The Breakers?” cliffhanger.
As of yet, Brad had yet to find her way with Jo. As each shooting day passed, Brad became more and more listless as Jo became more and more unmoored.
Next time on The Sins of the Seven:
Before The Seven were seven—there were Brad & Sierra. Next week, flash back to Brad and Sierra’s sun-drenched origin story and the billboard drop no one saw coming.
THE SINS OF THE SEVEN
WEDNESDAYS ON Rhodes Ave Press