“Wendy, if you take him down now, he’ll out you anyway. While exposing him might make you feel better in the short term, it won’t solve your problem.”
“You’re awfully cool for someone whose neck is on the line.”
Kate laughed humorlessly. “He can’t take away from me the things that really matter. He can ruin my career.” She looked pointedly at the reporter. “Don’t get me wrong, that would pain me greatly. I’ve worked very hard to get where I am in life, and I like to think I do a damn good job. But my professional life pales in comparison to what I have personally, and he can’t touch that.”
“Okay, I can understand that. So what do you suggest?”
“You’ve got another two days to work with, right?”
“Yes. Tick tock.”
“Give me until tomorrow night to come up with something, okay?”
“I guess.” The reporter began to turn away.
“Wendy?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks for coming to me with this. You’re a good person.”
“Don’t tell my mother that. She thinks I’m the demon spawn from hell.”
“By the way, did Breathwaite know you were taping him?”
“Probably not.”
“Oh.” Kate was disappointed, knowing that such evidence might never be admissible in a court, if it ever came to that.
“But Kate?”
“Yeah?”
“I don’t ever pick up the phone until the caller hears my taped voice informing him that the conversation may be taped, and that by staying on the line, he is consenting to being taped.”
“Wendy, I love you!”
The reporter smiled for the first time that evening. “Does your girlfriend know?”
“Very funny. Hey, can I borrow the tape? I promise to give it back to you.”
“You know a good reporter never gives up a tape.”
Kate blew out a breath. “I understand.”
Wendy touched her on the arm to force eye contact.
“But I did make you a copy.” She winked. “I’ll call you at home tomorrow night.”
“Better yet, let’s meet at the Falcon at 10:00.”
“Oh,
very
wicked, Ms. Kyle. The asshole would never think to look for us in a gay bar.”
Lynn Ames
Later that night Kate and Peter sat at his kitchen table, Fred at their feet and a speakerphone between them.
“What’s going on, you two? You call me on speakerphone at 11:00 at night? You must be up to no good.”
“Why half-pint, I believe I should be objecting to your insinuation.”
“Oh, big word for you, big guy.”
“Okay, you two, knock it off before I send you both to your rooms without supper.”
“She’s such a killjoy, Jay, isn’t she?”
There was a snort on the other end of the line. “Um, Peter? Do you really want me to answer that?”
The technology expert had the good grace to blush. “I suppose not,”
he mumbled.
“Right, then,” Kate said. “I had a very interesting meeting this evening with Wendy Ashton, a reporter for the Associated Press. Seems our friend Mr. Breathwaite tried to blackmail her today.”
“Now there’s a surprise.” Peter couldn’t help himself.
“With what?” Jay chimed in.
“Her sexuality.”
“Oh,
that’s
original.”
“It doesn’t have to be original, Jay, it just has to be effective.”
“I know, honey, it just galls me that living your life honestly makes you vulnerable.”
Kate wondered if her lover would ever get past being angry about the circumstances surrounding Kate’s dismissal from WCAP. “Me too, babe, but it’s a price I, for one, am happy to pay.”
Peter forced their thoughts back to the issue at hand. “Why is she telling you this? Why not just do what the asshole wants and save herself?”
“I asked her the same thing. She’s clearly no fan of his, I’ve always given her a fair shake, and she’d love to nail his slimy butt to the wall.”
“Fair enough.”
“What does he want from her?” Jay asked, the indignation clear in her voice.
“He wants her to write a story for wide distribution that will force the governor and the commissioner to fire me.”
Jay’s growl echoed in Peter’s kitchen, prompting a chuckle from Kate.
“Down, girl.”
“I’d like to wring his scrawny little neck.”
“I know the feeling, sweetheart, but I’m not sure that homicide would solve our problem.”
The Cost of Commitment
“What do you mean?”
“She means,” Peter said, “that Breathwaite can’t reinstall himself as PIO, so he must be only part of the equation.”
“Exactly. Which is why we need to carefully consider our next move.
If we flush him out now, we’re still going to be on the defensive, wondering who else is out there and reacting to whatever their game is.”
“Kate’s right, Jay. We need to let this play out further until we can identify whoever else is behind all this.”
“So we’re just supposed to sit here and watch him shred her publicly like this?”
“To some extent, yes.”
“No way.”
“Jay, sweetheart, I love your protective side, but Peter’s got a point.
And neither one of us is advocating that we let the jerk succeed, just that we let him keep trying.”
“But what about Wendy? If she doesn’t do his bidding, he’ll go after her.”
“Which is why we have to help her write a story that will satisfy Breathwaite, but not be sufficiently damaging to Kate to require her removal.”
“Got any ideas, Jay?”
The line went quiet for several moments as all three contemplated the possibilities.
“We can’t let him continue to attack your credibility, that’s for sure.
How about if we let her write something personal?”
“What do you have in mind?”
“Give her the story every tabloid’s been clamoring for.”
“No.”
“Kate...”
“Absolutely not. Out of the question, Jay.”
“Just hear me out.”
“No. I’ve spent how many months protecting your identity, keeping the vultures away? Now you want me to let them have at you intentionally?”
“Well, Breathwaite could hardly argue that Wendy didn’t give him something big, and it wouldn’t weaken your standing on the job, since your sexuality is hardly a secret.”
“Jay could be on to something here, Kate.”
“Unacceptable. I won’t do it.”
“Honey.” Jay’s gentle tone touched Kate’s heart, as it never failed to do. “Trish already knows, and she’s stood by me. He can’t hurt me, and I’d be damn proud to be identified as your lover. Heck, imagine the envy out there. I’d acquire a reputation as a stud overnight!”
Lynn Ames
“I don’t want to give him the satisfaction.”
“Kate, you know I’m right.”
“You’re correct that giving him something personal, rather than professional, might be the right thing to do. But not that. Tell you what,”
Kate sighed, “let’s make the story about my parents’ deaths.”
“How does that satisfy Breathwaite?”
“The drunk who killed them never served time. We could slant the story to sound like my bitterness at the criminal justice system affects my performance in the job.”
“That’s professional.”
“Not really. The focus would be on this orphaned eighteen-year-old with an axe to grind who schemed for years to get back at the system that abandoned her. Like all the other stories that have been written to date, it has elements of truth, but this time she gets extra points for bringing in a personal angle.”
Peter considered. “I like it. It’s different than what’s being written now, which might satisfy Breathwaite temporarily, yet so far-fetched that it won’t even raise the commissioner’s eyebrow.”
Kate added, “And we get the added bonus of controlling the story.”
“Right.”
“Kate, I know that was a painful time for you. Are you going to be all right with this?”
Kate tried to ignore the ache that always accompanied thoughts of her parents’ deaths. This was an area that she held most private; even Jay didn’t know the depth of her feelings or thoughts on the subject. As she had for years, she shut down the emotions that threatened to swallow her.
“Thanks, baby. It was a long time ago, and while I miss my parents every day, I don’t waste a second of my time on the scumbag who ran them into that tree.”
“Do you think Wendy will go along with it?”
“I think there’s a good chance she might if I can convince her that the story will be enough to get Breathwaite off her back and out of her bedroom.”
“What was she planning to do with the tape?”
Kate laughed. “I think it has something to do with proctology.”
“Delicately put, love.”
“Yeah.”
“When will you talk to her next?”
“We’re meeting at the Falcon tomorrow night.”
“I do love your sense of humor. Don’t be letting any strays follow you home.”
“No worries, my love, you’re the only one with a key.”
The Cost of Commitment
“On that disgustingly mushy note,” Peter intoned, “I’m kicking you both out so I can get some shuteye. Good night, Jay.”
“Good night, Peter.”
“Good night, John Boy.”
“Good night, Mary Ellen.”
“Ugh, you didn’t actually watch that drivel, did you?”
“No, the credits were my favorite part.”
“Get out of here. See you soon, Jay.”
The Falcon was crowded for the middle of the week. Bodies pulsed to the music; the clink-clink of glasses and beer bottles mixed with laughter and loud conversation. On the level slightly above the dance floor, a serious game of pool was in progress.
“Whoa, would you get a load of that one.”
More than one set of eyes followed the sleek form of the woman in tight blue jeans and a button-down shirt as she surveyed the room.
“Put your tongue back in your mouth, Tess, I saw her first. She’s mine.”
“You can both forget it; you’re not her type. She’s far too sophisticated for the likes of you.”
“Oh, and you think you’re more her style, Robbie?”
Stepping down from the entranceway, Kate ignored the leering and the chatter and nodded to the bartender, who was serving someone at the other end of the Formica-topped bar.
“What can I get you, gorgeous?”
“Just a Diet Coke with lemon, thanks.”
“Oh, big drinker, eh?”
“Yeah,” Kate laughed. “I’ll try not to guzzle it.”
“Don’t look now, but I think that woman over in the corner is trying to get your attention.”
“Is that so? What’s she drinking?”
“Killian’s.”
“Okay, give me one of those, too.”
“Huh, I wouldn’t have picked her for your type.”
Kate rolled her eyes, threw down a few bills, and picked up the beer bottle and her soda. “She’s not,” she said over her shoulder as she walked away.
“Hello, Ms. Ashton.”
“Ms. Kyle.” The reporter nodded. “Fancy meeting you here.”
Kate made a show of looking around. “Nothing fancy about this place.”
Lynn Ames
“Let’s just say you class up the joint,” Wendy rejoined. “You do realize that every woman in the bar is staring at you, right?”
“What, is my fly undone?”
“Very funny. How do you deal with that?”
“With what?”
“With the kind of attention and looks you get everywhere you go.”
“My fiancée says I’m oblivious and obtuse. She’s probably right.”
“In that case, maybe I should be asking her how
she
deals with it.”
Kate smiled. “I’d venture to say that she’s the one who turns heads, not me.”
“Well, you must make quite a couple.”
“I think so.” Kate shifted minutely in her chair, uncomfortable talking about Jay with a reporter, even one as friendly as Wendy. “Any more word from Breathwaite?”
“No. I’m not supposed to hear from him until Friday afternoon.”
“Good.” Kate leaned forward to be heard over the music without shouting. “I want you to give him his story.”
“What?”
“I want you to write a story that will satisfy Breathwaite.”
“But that could mean the end of your career.”
“Not if you write the story I have in mind.” Kate’s eyes burned with intensity.
“Talk to me.”
“My parents died when I was eighteen and away at college. They were killed by a drunk driver on the Hutchinson River Parkway in Westchester. The guy was found civilly liable, but never served time.”
“And this is relevant exactly how?”
“What if, all these years, I’ve been carrying this chip on my shoulder?
What if I’ve been plotting all this time to put myself in position to get back at the criminal justice system that denied me justice so long ago?”
The reporter considered. “Yeah, like you had yourself outed and fired from WCAP just so the governor would feel sorry for you and hire you as PIO at DOCS. As if you could have planned all that.”
“Perhaps I was just biding my time, getting experience in the media and getting close to the governor in order to ingratiate myself to him until the appropriate opportunity arose.”
“Nobody’s gonna buy that.”
“Probably not, but the story has elements of truth, and it gives you something Breathwaite will love.”
“What’s that?”
“A personal angle. Imagine how much he’ll enjoy seeing my personal pain splashed across newspapers all around the state.”
“That
would
appeal to the asshole.”
The Cost of Commitment
Kate ticked off the points on her fingers. “He gets his story, you save yourself, I get to keep my job because the story isn’t sufficient to warrant my dismissal. Everybody wins.”
“What if it’s not enough to get him off my back?”
“I’ll give you enough details to make him happy. Wendy, I’m not going to let him take you down, I promise you.”
The reporter still seemed unconvinced.
“Look, there’s a much juicier story to be had here. This is not an isolated incident with Breathwaite. There’s something much bigger going on.”
“I’ve noticed that you’ve been under the gun in a bunch of papers lately. Why?”
“I’m not sure yet. All I know so far is that Breathwaite wants me out, and he wants to come back to DOCS as PIO. What I don’t know is why or who else is involved. But I intend to find out. And when I do, the story is all yours, exclusively. Just work with me on this piece now. Deal?”