Chapter 68: Drummer Boy's Plan Take A Very Unexpected Turn

So many of you have been waiting anxiously to see how Row's hand gets hurt and why Riley blames Bodie for it. Something happens here in this chapter that shifts Bodie and Row's dynamic from friendly acquaintances/beer pong opponents  to conspirators. This begins to draw Row more into Bodie's sphere...and their new camaraderie will eventually lead Row to her hand injury...read on because how it begins? It's a shocker! Or maybe it's not so shocking, considering these crazy rock stars....

Bodie

I thought, when Adam traded off with me backstage before soundcheck—I made my way to Evangeline and he intercepted Arabella—that Bells had gotten what she came for—a face-to-face about her album.

Adam told her he will book the studio time to produce her album in Nashville right after the tour—before Soundcrush is set to start recording our third album in the fall. Adam is all about Bells' sessions now. He says being in the studio with her will prime his creativity for our own work. It's been almost two years now since our sophomore effort and he's eager to be more involved with producing our sound than he was the first two times.

Mac and Trace are also good with Adam being tied up with Bells for a month. Mac is planning to bring Lennon and her entourage to Atlanta and spend the month with Trace at the Atlanta bandhouse. We've got a catalog of new songs we can lay down, but they want one more shot at their magic songwriting cauldron before we get down to business on the new album.

And now that I've verbally settled with Evangeline—she'll have a contract and be at a songwriter's workshop in LA by the end of the week—and Darius' first professional performance killed—he made Gwen cry, he's definitely getting some age-appropriate action there tonight—and Soundcrush performed to expectations in our set—which is to say we set the bar pretty damn high for those old men in Skid Marcs—and I'm chillin' in the green room, waiting to go back out for our encore with Skid Marcs—I'm surprised when Bells makes her way back to me with maybe the sweetest, most genuine smile I've ever seen her wear.

"You look...amazing," she says gesturing vaguely at me. "You look really healthy and really, really happy."

"I can't complain."

I can. I totally can. About Daemon, Connor, bad dreams, and cravings. But I won't. Not to Bells, who has her own demons.

She sighs. "Now that I'm here...I'm not sure I should do this."

Uhhhhm...I don't like the sound of that. Is she bailing on our Dharma deal? Or is it worse than that. She's not going to make a bid to get back together, is she?

I find myself taking an unconscious step back from her.

She catches my drift and laughs, putting out a hand to stop me. "Don't worry, I'm not going to jump you."

I grin, embarrassed. "Shit, girl. Any man...or woman...would be lucky. We had some good times back in the early days, but I'm...really in it with Marley, you know."

"I know." She looks me square in the eye and I can see from her pupils that she's on a little something but she seems perfectly sober, so it must not be much.

I touch her face, putting a thumb beside her eye to indicate I can clearly see her high. "I wish you wouldn't, Bells."

"Well, I'm nervous," she shrugs. "This isn't easy for me, either."

"What isn't easy?" I ask. "What's going on?"

Her lips part, but just then Leed unwraps himself from Ashlynn and yells, "Bodes! Go time!"

"Look...let's talk after the encore, okay?" I say.

She shakes, "No, this is better in private. I'm staying tonight. Marley got me a room. I'll see you back at the hotel, okay?"

"Okay." That's probably a good idea. I need to finalize this stuff about her Colossal buy-out. If I can get her and Moran in a corner at Leed's suite party, we can be done with the unpleasant business once and for all.

The encore with Skid Marcs is always the highlight of the night. They do Little Sister with us, we do Halfway There with them, and it's a fuckton of fun to bang tandem drums with Dom, who's a legend. And see Leed and Matt's drama on Little Sister. Then the best part is watching Matt grin with pride at Trace, who has a dueling guitars solo with Jax.

I spend the official afterparty introducing Evangeline around to every industry type that Skid Marcs has brought up to the arena shin-dig. Marley and I occasionally pass each other with smiles and engage in banter, within larger groups.

Though a few people—like Moran—are hearing the word that we are together, we've decided with some reluctance that we need to keep our relationship unofficial in the press—indefinitely.

That's mainly why I recruited Vicki—I'm hoping to put my own spin on our interactions when we are photographed together, but I will not make official statements about us. Not until I'm out of the drug mule business. I can't. It's too risky. Marley and Darius would be the ultimate leverage to any bad guys wanting to strong arm me.

It's fun, though—making secret love to Marley with glances, touches, and private murmurings in the middle of a blow-out party. We keep it up, when we move it to the afterparty in Leed's suite. She gets distracted when Darius and Gwen slide up to us, holding hands, and Darius says, "We've had all we can take of you boomers. We're gonna go hang in the suite and binge watch—" Darius turns to Gwen, "some awful chic show she wants to watch..."

The look he's giving her? Pure adoration. I shake my head, at the ground, trying to hide my grin. Damn boy, you can't let 'em know they gotcha that wrapped up. Not this quick.

Gwen mistakes my head shake. "Is that not okay?" she says anxiously. "I mean, I know Adam will freak at the idea, but I thought it was okay as long as we told you where we were going..."

"It's okay, Gwen," I smile. Then I look at Marley who is frowning. I nudge her. "Right, Marley?"

Marley bites her lip. "Yeeesss, it's okay," she says slowly. "I'm just thinking what your parents might be comfortable with, Gwen. Just maybe...hang out...on top of the covers, okay? Or leave the bedroom door open? Your choice..."

Gwen goes pink all the way up to her forehead. Darius gives Marley that should evaporate her, like a phaser. "Jesus, Mom. We were gonna watch it on the big tv in the main area..."

"Oh!Of course! Okay!" Marley laughs like a loon. "Sorry! I mean, whatever! We trust you!" She takes a big gulp of her vodka seltzer.

After Darius drags a still flaming Gwen away, I snicker quietly into my Red Bull and nudge Marley. "You can stand down, Mama Bear. It's like I told you. The kid's got moves like Jagger on the stage but not in the bedroom. Not yet."

She groans. "I didn't mean to embarrass Gwen. I just remember you at fifteen."

"He's not fifteen yet. And Gwen is definitely not Jasmine Jones."

Marley looks slightly offended. "What's that supposed to mean?"

I hold my hands up. "I'm not judging you, baby. But you definitely were the aggressor, and you had the experience to know what you wanted."

Her offense melts into a look not all that different than the one Darius was giving Gwen. "I did. I wanted you. Just like now. Just like always."

I look around and give her bottom a surreptitious pat. "We are on the same page there, Sweet Jasmine. But we might have to take the night off. You know...if Gwen and Darius are gonna hog the suite all night watching Netflix ten feet from our bedroom..."

"The sacrifices we make for our kid," she sighs.

Now it's my turn to make the adoring face, down at her. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Arabella making her way toward me, "Listen, I think Bells wants to talk business..."

"Yeah, you should talk," Marley says without even a hint of eye roll. So weird.

But before I can match the distance to Bells, Row del Marco grabs me by the arm and swings me toward Leed's balcony. "Let's drink this," she says, holding up a punch bowl of something blue with what looks like swedish fish in it. "I'm on the wagon tonight, and I need a sober companion."

"Hold up, I just gotta talk to Bells—" I look back. Bells has been arrested in her path by Chili who is talking to her animatedly.

"Later," Row says.

I look at her suspiciously. "Don't you want me to bust that up?" I gesture at Bells and Chili.

Row looks startled and glances with new eyes at the pair. "Oh my god. The Disney Princess like girls, too?"

I wince. Shit. "You didn't hear it from me. I mean it, del Marco. She's still...figuring all that out. Do not breathe a word."

She rolls her eyes. "It's not my style to out someone who isn't out. Beside, I don't give a shit about her. And Chili has way better taste. But I do need to talk to you. Come on."

Now, I'm intrigued. It's not like Row to drag me off for a one on one.

Row raises my newly found dad anxiety by hopping up carelessly on the balcony railing, the fish bowl still in hand. One of my hands goes automatically behind her knee, gripping around her calf.

"Jesus, Row. We are seventeen stories up."

"Fatherhood is making you old as fuck, you know that?" She sneers, thrusting the fishbowl at me.

I take a drink. It's Blue Hawaiian Punch, sweetened even further by the melting gummy fish.

"I guess if I'm getting as old as fuck, you're regressing to a toddler. This is a five year old's drink."

"Don't disparage the blue juice," she says, making grabby hands for the punch bowl. "It's a comfort beverage. My dad used to let me, Bridge and Street drink gallons when my mom wasn't around."

I give her the punch bowl back. "Okay. Watch what you say about my fatherhood status, though. Darius is supposed to a well-kept secret, you know."

She stares at me, those icy del Marco eyes unnerving me. "You want to know a secret, Bodie? You want to know why my comfort beverage tonight is blue Hawaiian punch and not Jager? The truth is...we have something in common, Bodie."

I snort. She's messing with me. Row is always punking people. I swipe the bowl back and take another drink. "Nice try, but I know you're just messing with me. You're not keeping a kid secret, but if there's actually vodka in this shit that I can't taste, now I've broken my sobriety. Again."

"There's.No.Vodka. God, I don't know how you do this. Sobriety sucks. I haven't had a real drink in three weeks. Haven't had much of anything except Blue Hawaiian punch. It's all I want, now...I'm always so thirsty and craving sugar..." She jerks back the drink, buries her face in the punch bowl, chugging, leaning back way too far, considering her two inch wide perch.

I grab behind her knees with both hands. She drinks the whole damn punch bowl then looks down to the patch of concrete below. She drops the fish bowl, watching it fall. When it shatters, she gazes into the dark below, like she wishes she could follow it.

"Bye little fishes," she whispers. "You aren't real. It was easy for me to let you go."

I realize two things:

Row is not punking me and she is fucking desperate right now.

I pull her off the rail, sit her firmly down beside me on a plush loveseat. "For real?"

She nods. Then she laughs kind of hysterically. "Those Lawsons are such trendsetters. They do something, we all follow, even if we don't want to." She laughs some more, and her laughter tilts to sobs, which she stifles. She picks at her short, black nails.

"You gotta get it together here, girl. This is maybe...a big curve ball... but you can't be throwing yourself off a damn balcony over it. You can...figure this out. You got...options..."

I can't for the life of me understand why she's telling me this. There's got to be like, at least a dozen better choices to confide in. Her sister, her mom. One of her girls in the band. Mac, or even Marley. And...Riley...of course...

I look around for him. He's laughing with Trace. Looks like he doesn't have a care in the world, which is the front he often puts up when he has to share space with Row and Matt. Still, I don't think he would be able to pull that kind of deception off right now, if he knew...

"Riley doesn't know?" I say, with a low voice.

She shakes her head.

"You should tell him."

She gives me this look. Tears spill over but she's looking at me like I'm slow.

"Awww, shit." I rub her leg. "He's not the guy?"

She shrugs and puts the heels of her hands into her eye sockets to hold back tears.

"I don't know," she says hoarsely. "It could be some random from Philly. It's probably him, actually. Don't even remember meeting him, or doing it with him. I just remember fighting with Riley on the phone after our last press of the day, and going to a club with the girls and doubling up on X because I didn't want to think about Riley...and then the morning after. God, I'm never doing drugs again," she sobs.

Awwww, damn. It ain't that most rock stars don't have a black out story, at some point. But it still really, really sucks that this happened to Row. She's always seemed so invincible.

And maybe she was invincible, in LA. Maybe her name and the extension of Matt's influence had people looking out for her from just behind the curtain. I wonder if her blackout with this random in Philly was even her own over indulgence. Maybe she wasn't mollied. Maybe she was roofied.

I wait, to see if she wants to talk about that part, but she doesn't. I think it's the unplanned pregnancy, more than the sketch sexual encounter, that she is concerned with at the moment.

"Why are you telling me? What do you need from me, Sweetheart?" I ask carefully.

She wipes mascara. "I'm not telling Riley anything at all—ever—unless I am sure it's his. If it were his...maybe I would tell him. What I need from you is to help me get a DNA swab from Riley."

"You want me to somehow get Riley's DNA for a paternity test and lie to him about it?"

"Yes," she says, cool as fuck.

"Row—"

She grabs me by the shirt front. "Listen to me, just a minute, okay? I decided how to handle this. I went to a clinic. While I was there, I...undecided. I couldn't go through with it, thinking...maybe...Riley had a right to...at least...know...what was happening. I mean, if he's the guy. But I am not telling him about the other guy, okay? It was just a stupid mistake and...you know how messed up he is right now...over Avery Thompson."

"That's not the same, Row. Riley was engaged to that girl when she got with Avery. You and Riley are on again, off again at best."

I don't tell Row this, but I'm pretty sure there have been a few randoms in Riley's summer, too. An effort to move on from what was going on between them. Like Row's efforts, I don't really think it's working. "I think...I think he would understand."

"You're wrong. If I tell him I was so blitzed on mollies that I don't even remember having sex with another guy? That's Priscilla all over. He might say he understands, but he will hate me. Just like he hated her, until she overdosed." She hisses, her face a distorted by running makeup. "I can't have him hate me, Bodie. I think maybe...I might...love him. I don't know. I'm not sure." She grabs me again. "What does it feel like?"

If this weren't so fucking serious, I would laugh at Row. She's always so independent, but her love for Riley? It's hitting her hard in a way she's never planned on. "Love? What does love feel like?"

"Yeah."

"It feels like...something so intense between you and the person you love you can't explain it to anyone else without sounding like a crazy person. Except for one part of it. You will do whatever it takes to see the person you love happy," I smile at her.

She takes my words wrong. She starts crying again. "Even doing stuff you don't think you are ready to do? Like Mac?"

I rub her back. "That's not what I meant. Love could just as easily be the opposite. Accepting you two aren't ready and supporting each other through that. Like Adam would have, if that had been Mac's choice. But you should go through that together, if you can, and if you really love each other."

"That's not what happened for you and Marley. She didn't have a choice to make an informed decision, did she?"

I'm confused about what Row means. Is she aware that Daemon sabotaged Marley's birth control? I'm not sure. Marley doesn't tell anyone and everyone that.

"No...but...that was all kinds of complicated. It wasn't...about me and Marley then. If it had been, if she hadn't wanted to keep..."

I almost say Darius, but I can't. I can't imagine her making another choice with the image of our son in my mind. I roll it back, picturing a different time, picturing Jaz with long braids and a girl's body, and wider, more innocent eyes.

"If it had just been the two of us in that situation, if she had come to me and told me, if she hadn't wanted to go through with the pregnancy, it wouldn't have changed the way I felt about her."

"You can say that, but you can't know that. And for sure you can't know that about Riley. It might change...everything for him. You know what else it would change? My dad wouldn't give a shit about his damn industry rules anymore."

I rub my face. "What are you sayin' Row? That you might consider going forward with this pregnancy just because your dad would be more willing to see you with Riley if you were knocked up with his kid?

"News flash, Sweetheart: you are twenty years old. Maybe not old enough to embrace motherhood, but also too old for your dad to actually make the rules for you. Riley doesn't give a fuck about Matt's rules. That's all you. But you know what else? Considering keeping a baby so Matt will be more receptive to Riley? That's a truly terrible reason to have a kid."

Her eyes glow with anger at my words. She shoves at me a little. "Wasn't it also pretty fucking terrible to dupe Marley into thinking Darius was Daemon's kid so she would give him up?"

I run a shaky hand over my lip. Christ, that's right. Riley knows the truth. He was there when I overdosed, when TJ and I had words about it, and TJ admitted that he switched the tests like we had agreed to.

I was so out of it after the overdose, I completely forgot about Riley's involvement in that day. It surprises me a little that he let this information pass to Row, but maybe it shouldn't. Not all people are like me. Some lovers, maybe most lovers in real love, keep few secrets.

Row's anger and desperation is flashing in her face, and I feel my thug persona creepin' up on me.

"Are you...are you...actually threatening me with that information? Cause you don't want to do that..." I say slowly.

As the words come out of my mouth, I guess for the first time, I realize a horrible truth.

The fact that Row's accusation feels like a huge fucking threat? Means that the secret I'm keeping from Marley is a huge fucking betrayal.

I don't have time to think about that however, because Row's face crumbles into confusion. "What? No. Of course not. I just...I just...thought...if anyone could understand what a fucking mess I'm in right now...it would be...you." She holds her hands out helplessly. "I just needed someone to talk to that's not going to judge me. Someone that would...help me. I thought that would be...you. You're like...the best at down low shit. I just need a cheek swab. That's all. Please, Bodie."

"Row, trust me when I say, this is so not the way you should play this. If I had it to do over again, I would have played it straight, not shady, I promise you. I was fifteen. A complete dumb ass. You are not some stupid punk like I was."

She stares at me. She holds up her hands, to her gothic, destroyed makeup and flaps down her leather studded clothes and fishnets. "Look at me, Bodie. I'm exactly some stupid punk." She dissolves into tears.

There's nothing left for me to do but hug her while she cries. "How long do I have to get this sample?" I grumble in resignation.

"I'm just to the point they could do the test. I have...awhile to decide, but the sooner the better." She latches onto me with a hug even more fierce than Mac's. "Oh thank you, Bodie. Thank you, thank you, thank you."

Music and laughter flood our space as the balcony door opens. We both look up from our hug, me with discomfort, Row with utter devastation. Riley looks down at us with an expression that rarely colors his features—utter surprise.

"What's amiss? Are you hurt, love?" he says, accurately sensing Row's pain but reading the wrong context.

"She's okay, just a little off-balance," I say mildly, as she rushes to scrub her face. He strides over, taking her hands, holding them out, his eyes raking frantically, like he has to make sure for himself that she's not hurt in some way. Seeing no injury, his expression rises up to panic.

"Are you ill?" He drops down in front of her, turning her face to the light streaming from the suite. "What's wrong, Row?" he pleads.

I think, seeing the concern and love so plain on his face, she might have told him the truth, but then he added, quickly, fearfully, his voice low, "Did you take something new? Or too much? Tell me."

It's probably his deepest fear, that exuberant, free-spirited Row will follow Priscilla into drug overdose, but it's the wrong thing to say to Row right now, as scared and vulnerable as she is. She grabs his wrist, removing his hand from her face. "Do you even see me, when you look at me? Or do you just see her?"

She pushes him. Because of the way he's crouched, he falls over backwards and she rushes back into the room. Riley sits on his ass, looking at me, demanding silent explanation.

I shrug. "She was sitting on the railing. She lost her balance for a second, I grabbed her legs. She dropped her drink off the balcony. I think it scared her, is all."

Lying is so fucking easy for me now. Second nature. I'm so good at it, Riley accepts it without question. Relief floods his features.

"It's a good thing you were there," he says, rising. "I'll go check on her—"

"Let me. You stepped in it already."

His face darkens. "I worry for her. Like I worried for you. For Ashlynn. For Trace. For Leed. For all you lot in varying degrees of abuse. None of you think it will actually kill you."

"Hey, it almost killed me and I haven't forgotten that. But I get it from your end, too. Ghosts are hard to lay to rest." We watch Row weaving through the crowded suite.

"She's pretty drunk," I lie again easily. "I'll just make sure she finds her room, okay?"

He nods, watching Row as Matt stops her at the door, probably giving her the same line of questioning that Riley just gave. I'm a little bit surprised to see the way Riley's mouth lifts in a smile as Matt casually reaches around Row, pulling her head in close to kiss her hair, then shaking a finger at her, talking, lecturing. Despite the impasse the three are at over Riley and Row's relationship, I guess Riley likes the father-daughter thing Matt and Row have going.

"Thank you," Riley says as Matt continues to lecture Row. "Oh, and Bodie? We need to talk about your expenditures soon. The financial guy is having a bloody coronary over the lack of documentation. Says an IRS audit is imminent..."

"Yeah, I'll get him all the stuff. Paperwork ain't my strong suit, but I can pull it all together..." I hedge, as Row escapes the paternal lecture. "Let me just catch up with her."

"She'll be headed to the fourteenth floor, if you miss the elevator," he says. Of course he knows where her room is.

Bells makes a bee line for me. "Not now, Bells," I dodge.

"Bodie I really need to talk to you."

"In the morning, I swear..."

"Bodie!" Marley yells at me.

I whip around, confused. "What?" I say.

"Arabella needs to talk to you," she flaps her hand.

"Forget it!" Arabella yells. "If you don't even have time to have a simple conversation with me, I don't even know what I'm doing here!"

"Me either, Bells!" I yell back.

"Bodie Jamison, that is just rude!" Marley yells at me. "Get your ass back here and have the conversation Arabella has been trying to have with you all day!"

"What the fuck is going on with you two?" I growl with minor irritation. Jesus, I thought my double girlfriend grief was over. Now I got Arabella on me like we are still dating and Marley as her new wing-woman? What the fuck?

"You know what? Just...both of you...just fucking chill, okay? Christ, can I handle my shit like a grown ass man? For five fucking minutes? Without you bitching like you are still my high-maintenance girlfriend?" I stab at Arabella, "And you scolding me like a fucking child?" I hurl at Marley.

I regret the words as soon as they are out of my mouth. They came from nowhere. Literally from nowhere—from the chasm of energy and the lack of sleep and the dark dread I push down inside.

Arabella looks furious. Marley looks hurt. Row is probably in her room already, and if I'm going to perpetrate shady shit for her, we need a plan before she hauls ass out of here in the morning.

"Shit. Look...I'll be back," I hurl with exasperation and throw open the door.

I take the stairs and catch Row trying to open her door with her phone.

"These fucking digital keys never fucking work!" She bangs on the door. "Fuck!" She kicks it. "I just want to fucking go to bed!" She draws back her arm to smack her phone into the door. I rescue her phone and close the app, opening it again. This time the mechanism of her doorlock whirs and the green light flashes.

She throws up the door, banging it roughly against the wall.I follow her in. She falls flat on the bed, staring up at the ceiling.

I sit in the chair, letting her rage subside.

"My mom warned me. She said, Row, when you start traveling, and living out of suitcases, and maybe overdoing it some nights, sleeping til noon, then rushing to flights or appearances? When you have no routine? When you grow accustomed to your entourage taking care of so many little things for you? It's very easy to forget the things you have to do for yourself. You can't forget your birth control pills and you can't forget condoms.You have to make both a priority. Every single morning and every single time.

"She warned me. And she was right. And I fucked it up. I only missed like two pills. And it was only the one time with Riley that we got caught off guard in a limo, but he...well...he pulled out so it's probably not him. It was probably the awful guy in Philly I can't even remember...and I fucked it all up."

I sigh. I think she's more terrified that Riley is the father than if he isn't, so I don't mention that pulling out didn't prevent me from getting Marley pregnant.

She puts her hands over her face. "I know. I know. TMI, but I just can't believe how fucking stupid I am. I mean...me? Who would have thought this would happen to me? I'm not some wide-eyed innocent virgin. I've been handling my shit since I was fifteen. No problem. I can always handle my liquor, my party, my birth control. I never ever, fucked up like this before...now I feel like some kind of poster child for irresponsible behavior. This is your uterus. This is your uterus on drugs." She holds her arms out, indicating a pregnancy.

"Believe me darlin'. If anybody has ever felt like an awkward afterschool special, it was me. You aren't the first smart, ambitious chic to forget her birth control. Hell, I'm beginning to wonder if anybody actually ever plans to get pregnant or if it always happens this way."

"It happens to rock stars this way," she mutters.

"May be," I agree. "Row, you really can't just...tell him? Trust that he loves you enough to be understanding?"

"It's not that. I just can't...hurt him like this. He's been hurt enough," she whispers.

After a time, I begin to speak to her in a low voice, telling her a couple of ideas for getting the sample. She lifts her head, amazed at my capacity for deception. She goes to her bathroom and returns with a small vial. The sample swab from the test kit.

I'll keep it on me, and assemble the other things I need for the deception, but right now I'm more concerned with getting back to Marley.

Both she and Arabella have left the suite party when I return. I make my way to Arabella's door. No answer. In my suite, I find that Darius has turned in—Gwen back in her room, of course—and so has Marley. But my bedroom door is locked against me.

A neat stack of pillows and blankets await me on the couch.

That's fucking great. I toss myself down on the couch.

Doesn't fucking matter anyway. Not like I would have slept any better in there. I stare out the wall of glass, my eyes blurring the San Francisco skyline, making the twinkling buildings look like a forest of Christmas trees.

I prioritize stealing Riley's DNA sample and making sure I've cooked all Daemon's books in my ever expanding to-do list of crimes. The genetic theft has to happen quick, because I might not see Riley again for weeks when he separates from the tour in a couple of days, and Row doesn't need to drag this situation out. Reviewing Daemon's falsified business records can probably be put off until the end of tour. Maybe avoided altogether if Varrick has any pull with the IRS.

I lie there, avoiding sleep as usual, knowing that it will eventually overtake me. One day, all this shit—double-dealing with practically every single person I know? It's going to overtake me, too.

Uh-oh. Row has found herself in a really tough spot. Do we think this situation will turn out like Mac and Adam? No, me neither.

ALTHOUGH...we do know that Row and Riley get married at some point...we do know that Row seems a lot more mature and gentle in a few years time...is that just because of her hand injury or due to some other experiences she encountered during our time gap?

How do we feel about Row's plan to gain a DNA sample from unwitting Riley? Anybody think that's a good idea? No, me neither.

How do we feel about Bodie agreeing to help her? Anybody think Riley's the kind of guy that's going to be cool with this deception if/when it comes out. Not to beat a dead horse, but...no. Me neither.