Power Play: A Novel (12 page)

“Yeah,” she said, as tears rolled down her cheeks again, “and you love Liz too. I could see it.” She started to sob then and buried her face in his chest as he held her. She loved him so much, and now she was afraid they would never be together as she had hoped. He was married to a real woman and Ashley had seen that she loved him too.

“I respect Liz,” Marshall said as he held Ashley. “We have a lot of history together, nearly thirty years, and three kids.”

“We have eight, and two kids. That counts for something too,” Ashley said, feeling pathetic for even saying it to him. And as she did, he tipped her face up to his and kissed her.

“We have a lot more than that. We have something very special, Ash, that I’ve never had with anyone else.” It hadn’t stopped him from sleeping with Megan Wheeler, Ashley knew now, but at least he had been honest with her about it, or so she thought. “And one of these days, we’ll be together. I just want to get Lindsay through high school and out of the house. Then it will be our turn.” But she wondered now if it ever would be, and now she was questioning if Liz would really let him go. She had been so staunch beside him at
the press conference. It had been obvious that for Liz their marriage wasn’t dead, and Marshall was still her man. But he was Ashley’s too.

Ashley didn’t answer him, and he kissed her then, and the next thing she knew he was holding her so tight she could hardly breathe, their clothes were off, and they couldn’t get enough of each other. It happened as it always did, and this time they never made it to her bedroom, they made love on the small battered couch in her studio. And whenever they made love, she forgot everything she was afraid of in their relationship, all the times he had disappointed her. She forgot everything in his arms, and afterward they lay together, and it all came back to her. She couldn’t get the image of his wife out of her head now, and the realization that she was nothing to him, just the woman he made love to in L.A. and slept with two days a week. Nothing else about their life was real, except the twins.

He showered and dressed for the office after he made love to her, and he had to rush. He had a luncheon appointment, and he had put everything aside while he was with her. He could see that she felt better, but when he looked at her closely, he was aware of a worried look when he kissed her goodbye.

“I love you. That’s all you need to know.” She nodded, feeling dazed by everything he’d said and their lovemaking. She couldn’t think clearly when she was around him, and he kissed her again. “See you tonight.” He was only going to be able to spend one night in Malibu that week, because he had been busy dealing with the sexual harassment suit. She would have liked him to spend Friday night with them, to make up for it. But she knew he never could. He always went home for the weekends, which frightened her now too. He said he played golf on Saturdays with clients, but now she
wondered what else he did with Liz. The vision of their clasped hands at the press conference was still haunting her, and maybe always would. She had gotten a glimpse into his married life that she had never had before.

She heard the old Jaguar drive off, and went upstairs to shower. She was just coming downstairs in her T-shirt and shorts again when Bonnie showed up. She had gotten hired to work on another movie, but she wasn’t starting for two more weeks.

“Is Prince Charming in town?” Bonnie asked as she looked at her, and helped herself to a Coke from the fridge.

“He got here today,” Ashley said quietly. She didn’t want to get in an argument with Bonnie over him. And recent events in his life were hard to defend, especially now that she knew the truth, that he had cheated on her, even if it was a one-night stand. “He’s leaving tomorrow.”

“I saw his press conference last night,” Bonnie said, as they went to sit outside on the deck. It was a hot day, and both women looked like kids as they lay on deck chairs in the sun.

“Yeah, me too.” Neither of them commented on his wife standing with him, but Bonnie knew Ashley must have seen it too, and their holding hands.

“It sounds like he got out of it pretty cleanly. They must have paid her a bundle to take back what she said,” Bonnie said.

“Maybe so.” Ashley didn’t want to discuss it with her, but as she lay on the deck near her friend, Ashley’s heart sank, at the realization of what had really happened. Marshall had cheated on her, and he had a wife who was willing to stand by him through thick and thin, and he had just told her that morning that he couldn’t leave his wife for another year, until their daughter graduated. He had said as
much to Ashley before, but it was different now that she had seen how Liz looked at him, and how Marshall looked at her. It was a much stronger bond between them than Ashley had realized, and one which she felt no power to interfere with. And it was a tie that had not yet been severed and maybe never would be. She wasn’t angry about it anymore, just sad.

“You okay, Ash?” Bonnie asked her friend gently, and Ashley shrugged.

“More or less.” Bonnie suspected what was troubling her. She had seen the same connection between Liz and Marshall that Ashley had the day before. It didn’t surprise Bonnie, and had confirmed her worst fears, and now she was even sadder for her friend.

“Why don’t we do something with the girls this weekend? Maybe take them to Venice, or go to Disneyland or something. You look like you need a break.” More than that, she needed to have some fun, instead of sitting at home obsessing over Marshall, crying about him, or waiting for him to come to L.A. for a day or two. Ashley needed a lot more in her life.

“Yeah, maybe,” Ashley said without enthusiasm. The last two days had left her feeling depressed. It was hard to rev up her motors again. All her tires were flat.

“You have a choice, you know,” Bonnie said softly. She always tried to be the voice of reason for Ashley, out of friendship, but she never got anywhere. “You don’t have to stand by him forever if it’s killing you. You can get out of it, or even go to a shrink to help you do it, if you can’t do it alone.”

“I know,” Ashley said as she started to cry again. She felt as though she had done nothing but cry for the past two days. Seeing him on TV with Liz had been too hard, and a revelation she had never
wanted to face. She had never even seen a photograph of her till then, in eight years. She was twenty years older than Ashley, but she was still a pretty woman, in a suburban-soccer-mom kind of way. And in her simple black dress, she had looked like the perfect corporate wife that she was, something Ashley knew she could never be. She wondered now if that was why he stayed with her too, not just for the kids. “I don’t really have a choice,” Ashley said to Bonnie then. And maybe Liz didn’t either. Ashley wondered about that now too.

“Why not?” Bonnie looked puzzled and hoped she wasn’t pregnant again. It would just tie her to him even more.

“I love him too much,” Ashley said, as she brushed away her tears, and the wind blew her curls and framed her face with them. She looked like an exquisite angelic child, and not just the vulnerable woman that she was. “I can’t leave him. I would die.”

“He may destroy you if you stay,” Bonnie said seriously.

“I know,” Ashley said, looking straight at her, and the worst of it was that she seemed as though she did know, and was completely lucid about how dangerous he was for her.

“Don’t let him wreck your life,” Bonnie begged her, and Ashley nodded, and for a long time they lay on the deck, soaking up the sun and saying nothing at all. Bonnie was even more frightened for her now than she had been before. And she knew, looking at Ashley, that Marshall Weston owned her, body and soul. He was a man of extraordinary powers. And Ashley was like a feather on the wind, and no match for him at all.

Fiona was still waiting for answers from the investigation service that was analyzing the board and checking on its members, when she got a call from a well-known investigative business reporter the day after Marshall Weston’s press conference about the sexual harassment suit. The reporter’s name was Logan Smith, and she knew his name and had read his pieces for years, which were frequently in
The Wall Street Journal
,
The New York Times
, and business and financial magazines. He was best known for his incisive points of view, sometimes unpopular ones. He had fearlessly exposed money-laundering operations and corruption, and he wrote best about controversial issues. And she vaguely remembered that he had won a Pulitzer, although she didn’t know exactly what for. She had no idea why he’d be calling her, and hoped it wasn’t about the leak. At first she wasn’t inclined to take the call, she didn’t like talking to the press. And then she decided that avoiding him might be even more dangerous. So she picked up the receiver, and answered with a slightly harassed voice. She was even more so than her tone indicated.

“Fiona Carson,” she said, sounding curt. But she was the CEO and could afford to be prickly at times. She had a huge amount of responsibility to contend with.

“Hello, Ms. Carson, my name is Logan Smith.” She smiled to herself. His name was as well known in the business community as her own. She wasn’t sure if he was being modest or showing off. It could have been either one. He had a deep, pleasant voice, and sounded young. She had no idea how old he was. All she knew about him was the Pulitzer and the articles she’d read, some of which could be acutely hostile to big business. He left no stone unturned in the course of his in-depth reporting, no matter how uncomfortable it made his subject. He was a seeker of the truth, and often acted as though he was on a holy mission.

“Yes, I know who you are,” she said, with a look of amusement. “That’s why I took the call. What can I do for you, Mr. Smith?”

“I wondered if you have any comment about the recent sexual harassment charges made against Marshall Weston by a former employee. I’m writing a piece about the sexual habits, liberties, and sometimes perversities of men in power. Any thoughts?” She almost winced at his words. The last thing she wanted to do was comment about another CEO’s sexual habits, and she didn’t know the man.

“I thought the former employee retracted her claim against him yesterday. Isn’t that old news today?”

“Not really. And yes, she did recant, although we’ll never know exactly why. A lot of behind-the-scenes fancy footwork goes on, cleaning up those claims, as we both know. He may have paid her off. They said there was a ‘settlement’ to avoid litigation. But you know what that means.”

“Fortunately, I don’t. I’ve never had sexual harassment charges brought against me in the workplace or anywhere else.”

“Actually, that’s one of my theories,” he said, sounding pleasant and warming to the subject, “that women never engage in those activities. When was the last time you heard about a female CEO involved in a sex scandal, or sleeping with a male bimbo? What about Weston? Do you think her claim against him was valid, or just a ploy for money and she withdrew because she didn’t have a case?” It was anyone’s guess, and they’d never know. Fiona felt herself instantly on thin ice with his questions, a place where she did not want to be. But she was much too smart for that.

“I have absolutely no idea,” she said innocently. “I don’t even know the man.”

“You’ve never met him?” Logan sounded surprised. “Don’t CEOs go out and play together occasionally, or have a secret handshake or a clubhouse somewhere where they hang out?” She laughed. He was funny, and bright. But that also made him more dangerous, and she didn’t plan to enter his game.

“I wish we did. That would be fun. Actually, I’ve met Marshall Weston a few times, at Senate subcommittee hearings in Washington where we both appeared. We shook hands on the way in, and that was it. I have no idea what his habits are, and no interest in them. Nor if the allegations against him were true or not.”

“How disappointing,” Logan Smith said honestly. “I was hoping I could lull you into a little loose-lipped indiscretion about him. Some nice friendly gossip among rivals.”

“We’re not rivals,” she corrected him. “We have similar jobs for two very different companies. And I hear he does an excellent job.”

“And you’re not loose-lipped either. My efforts to pry inappropriate information from you have been a total bust.” She laughed aloud at that. “What do you think about my theory, about the difference between male and female CEOs and their sexual habits?” She wasn’t going to give him a quote on that either. In fact, she wasn’t going to give him anything, except two minutes of her time on the phone, no comment, and then send him on his way and wish him well.

“You should talk to my sister,” Fiona said pleasantly, “Jillian Hamilton. She’s a psychiatrist at Stanford. She’s writing a book on the subject. She’s as fascinated by it as you are, and said pretty much the same thing to me.”

“In what context? About anyone we know?” He was looking to hang his hat on something, and Fiona had given him nothing so far, although he liked talking to her. She sounded easygoing and very intelligent. Her sister probably was too.

“About men and women in general. And she claims that she uses me as a guinea pig for her research, about female CEOs.”

“And what’s her conclusion?” he asked with interest.

“That we work just as hard, don’t have nearly as much fun as our male counterparts, and are better behaved.”

“That’s my point,” he said, sounding excited. “I think your sister and I are really on to something. Guys in power seem to go berserk, and it becomes sexual for them. For women it becomes like some sort of vow of chastity and dedication. They don’t do anything but work.” And then he came right back to his topic. “So you’ve got nothing to say about Marshall Weston?” he tried again, and she didn’t volunteer that her daughter was dating his son. It was none of his business anyway, and might make him think she knew him better
than she did, which was not at all. All she actually knew about him was that he had a nice kid, according to Alyssa.

“I wouldn’t presume to comment about a man I don’t know,” she said wisely.

“That never stops anyone else,” he said, laughing.