And suddenly it feels like the tide has turned. And like always, it’s not in my favor. I left his condo figuring he’s the wrong guy for me. Maybe he left my condo figuring I’m the wrong girl for him. That I’m not good enough for him. He’s figuring, like all those guys before him figured, that he can do better than me.
I turn around, and start walking back. And I feel like a fool for chasing love again. Why am I always chasing love? Don’t I realize it ain’t meant for me? When will my stupid ass ever learn that? How many times do I need to be told that? And poor Ayden! I had him egging me on. I had him cheering for me. I keep putting my child through all of this drama like I don’t have the sense I was born with. What kind of parent am I? Maybe my mother was right.
Then I hear a ding sound. And I turn around. The elevator doors are opening and Bobby’s hurrying off. “Rain?” he asks as soon as he sees me. And he starts coming for me. “I heard you call my name, but the doors had already closed. Are you alright?”
He looks so serious, like he’s really concerned about me. And I’m feeling like a million bucks. He came back. He wanted to come back. He would have never left if those doors hadn’t closed.
I run to him.
“Renita, what’s wrong?” he asks me as soon as I make it up to him.
“I am,” I say to him. “I’m wrong about you, Bobby. You didn’t do anything bad to me or to my child. You’ve been nothing but wonderful to us. Even longer than I realized.”
I’m talking about back in Boston eleven years ago, the day he saved my life. He gets it, because he smiles at that.
And I lean against his big body. I guess I’m just tired of running. But I’m not heavy for him because I feel him putting his arms around me, too, and lifting me up, and hugging me back.
Then he carries me all the way back to me and Ayden’s condo. And no surprise to me, Ayden’s waiting in the hallway. When he sees me in Bobby’s arms, he starts jumping in place. This is still risky as hell, and it can still go so wrong. But tonight, as Bobby put an arm around Ayden and pull him against us too, being here, with these two men, in this place and time, feels so right.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
It’s a whirlwind affair. That’s the only way I can describe it. Rain and I have been together practically every night for two months straight. I’m either eating at her condo, or she and Ayden’s eating at mine. I’m either staying late at her place, or she’s spending the night at mine. And what I love the most is that it’s our personal thing. I haven’t had to share her with my family, where they can get all up in my business. I haven’t shared her with my friends. My campaign, other than Gerard, doesn’t know shit about her. And that’s fine by me. I want this shit to last. I want no outside interference.
I even take Ayden to a medical specialist to see if there’s more that can be done about his limp. There’s nothing more he can do than what those other doctors have already done, he tells us, but at least we know that now. Given Ayden’s age when he was shot, the specialist says, it’s a miracle he even survived.
The only thing I haven’t done is buy Rain a car. She’s willing to stay at the condo, which is the bigger deal, so I figure that’s good enough for now. She made her first payment on that car repair bill, and that made her feel good too. Keeping her own car, a car she paid for herself, makes her feel like she’s still got it under control. At least I think it does. She hasn’t brought it up, and neither have I. We’re in a relationship. No doubt about that. But there’s still things left unsaid.
I know I’ll have to eventually put her out on front street, but we made a decision, she and I. We started kind of fast. Now we’re taking our time.
I’m campaigning most days, but it’s not in high gear like I expected it would be. Capecchi did enter the race, but he’s turning out to be a lousy campaigner, making all kinds of false statements and missteps all on his own, and he’s getting clobbered in the press for it. And although I’m no prince in the eyes of the public, Capecchi isn’t either. He’s gaining no traction whatsoever. My reelection, according to the pundits, looks all but assured.
Until one night, when Rain and I are at my penthouse, and Gerard calls.
Rain’s asleep in my arms, and we’re both in my bed, when I wake up to the sound of my cell phone ringing. I reach for it, trying to look at the clock on my wall at the same time, to see if I even need to answer this shit, but I knock my phone to the floor. That wakes up Rain.
“It’s okay,” I say to her. Just this fucking phone, I want to say to her. I just pick up the phone instead.
“Yeah?” That’s how I answer when I’m pissed. I was in a wonderfully deep sleep, with my woman in my arms, before this interruption.
It’s Gerard, which makes it better. He wouldn’t disturb me over bullshit. “Hate to bother you, Bobby,” he says, “but turn on the TV, man.”
I frown. It’s after ten at night. “What?”
“You need to turn on the TV. The local ten o’ clock newscast. They just teased that when they return from a commercial break, a woman has some damaging information about our mayor. And you know who that woman probably is.”
Fuck! Now I’m really screwed. Just made up my mind that I was going to give our relationship all I’ve got, and this Laura shit drops? I grab the remote from out of my nightstand drawer, and turn on the TV.
“What’s going on?” Rain’s asking.
But I’m too busy searching for the local news channel to answer her.
But she’s a persistent lady. She’s not going to take no-answer for an answer. “Bobby? What’s wrong?”
I find the channel. “I may have a problem,” I say to her.
I told her about Laura’s claim that I’m her baby’s father a couple months ago, but that doesn’t ease the pain of it. Because now she’s got to hear about it for the first time from Laura herself. She’s got to hear another woman proclaim to the entire town that she’s pregnant, and I’m the father of her child. I could be the father. I’m not saying I can’t be. But so could a dozen other guys.
Besides, she knew about this pregnancy months ago. Why did she wait until I announced I was seeking reelection to mention it to me, and why come forward after two more months have gone by? I’m not buying what she’s selling, but will Rain buy it? She’s the only one I’m concerned about. And will she have to hear all this bullshit tonight?
She does, because the news anchor is already setting up the story, and it’s in our face already.
“Former Hooters manager and local resident Laura Cox-Dixon just wrapped up a hastily arranged press conference tonight at the Park-Rhine Hotel, attended only by certain reporters she handpicked to attend with the understanding they could not go public until after she finished speaking. And she has spoken. Miss Cox-Dixon just made some startling allegations about our Mayor Sinatra.”
Rain leans up on her elbows when that news anchor mentions my name, with the sheet dropping down beneath her big, juicy breasts. But I stay where I am: lying up on my pillow. I look back at the TV too.
The cameras are completing a pan-shot of the stylish hotel. It’s upscale all the way, but does half the business our Jericho Inn does. J.I.’s number one in Jericho, a fact the owner of Park-Rhine, and other competitors of our family’s various businesses, doesn’t like.
And then the camera pans to Laura’s ass. She’s standing behind a podium in one of the conference rooms at the hotel, looking gorgeous as ever because that’s what she does. She’s just standing there, behind a podium, hiding her stomach, letting the cameras click and get her best shots. The woman always knew how to pose whenever we went to red carpet events. A born actress. That’s Laura.
“Who the fuck has a press conference on a Friday night?”
That’s Gerard talking. I forgot he was still on the phone! I forgot my phone was still resting against my ear. I place him on Speaker. “Laura,” I answer his question. “That’s who.”
But this shit’s unnerving me more than I thought it would. I
glance at Rain. Her eyes are glued to the TV, to that gorgeous blonde who used to be in her man’s life, and maybe Rain’s the reason for my nerves. We’re having such a great ride together, her and I. It’s looking so hopeful for the two of us. And now this bullshit.
But that’s not all it’s about. The fact that this performance of Laura’s is going to upend my campaign for reelection has something to do with my nervousness too.
“I dated Robert Sinatra, off and on,” Laura’s saying, staring straight into the cameras, “for nearly a year.” Her voice is soft and sweet, the polar opposite of what it really sounds like: grating and irritating.
“One night, when I told him I was done with his cheating ways and wanted out, he became very upset.”
“Bullshit,” I say.
“Didn’t y’all have an open relationship?” Gerard’s asking.
“You know we did.”
“Didn’t you break it off with her?”
“You know I did.”
But, again, I’m looking over at Rain. But she’s giving nothing away. Her big, cat eyes are still glued to that TV: to Laura.
Laura’s supposedly composing herself before she can continue. Some woman standing behind her, presumably her lawyer, is rubbing her back, encouraging her. But I know that bitch. She doesn’t need any encouragement to down me. None whatsoever.
“When I say he became upset,” she says, “I mean violently so.”
That stops me cold. “Motherfuck,” I hear Gerard says, because we both know where this is going. Her ass is going to piggyback on the Me-Too movement. Her ass is going to go there? Seriously???
She goes there. “He grabbed me,” she says, “and told me I wasn’t going anywhere. Then he forced my mouth down on his penis.”
“Fuck!” I say out loud.
Rain glances at me this time, and I can see the worriedness in her eyes, but she quickly looks back at the TV.
“And then he forced himself on me, and inside of me.”
When she says this, I jump off the bed, still staring at that TV too.
“I told him no repeatedly. I told him I didn’t want it. But he made me do it. He made me. Now I’m pregnant with his child!”
The media in that room goes ballistic, throwing all kinds of questions at her, but she and her lawyer leaves the stage. They leave the fucking stage. They just dropped a fucking atom bomb on my life, and they leave the fucking stage?
I expected her to claim I was the father of her unborn child. I expected that. But to claim I raped her too? I never expected that shit!
“I’m floored, Bobby,” Gerard’s says, after saying every cuss word in the book. “What the fuck is she trying to do?”
“Destroy me,” I say. “What the fuck you think?” I’m naked and pacing around in my bedroom like a wounded animal. My cell phone’s in my hand, but it’s dangling like a motherfuck because I’m just that unnerved.
I look at Rain, but she’s still staring at that television.
“She just took that shit from a campaign problem,” Gerard’s saying, “to a law enforcement problem. You think your brother will investigate this?”
“Hell no,” I say. My oldest sibling, Brent Sinatra, is the chief of police in this town, another bee in the bonnet of some of these locals.
“But he’ll be under a lot of pressure,” Gerard says. “And you know how by-the-book Brent can be. We’ve got to prepare for every scenario. But what I still don’t understand,” he adds, “is why did she bust out with this big news on a Friday night? This is the slowest news night of the week.”
I suddenly stop pacing. “They had to,” I say.
“What do you mean?”
“Something had to have happened that made her have to rush this news out.”
“But what?”
“How the fuck do I know? You’re my campaign manager. You’re my chief of staff. Find out!” And I angrily end the call.
But then I look at Rain again. She gathers her legs up and places her arms around them, and she’s still watching the TV; she’s still listening to the anchor and the reporter speculate on what all of this could mean for my reelection bid. As if any dimwitted kid wouldn’t already know what it means.
But Rain looks terrified, and I’m worried. Why would she want to have anything to do with somebody like me? A man just accused of forcing himself on an ex-girlfriend because she wanted to break up with him. Would I force myself on her? Is she terrified of me? Does she want to jump out of that bed, throw on her clothes, and run for her life? Does she believe that shit?
But then Rain starts shaking her head. She’s still staring at the TV, but she’s shaking her head. I want to ask her what she’s shaking her head about, but I’m too scared of the answer. I wait for her to tell me.
“That’s a bitch,” she says.
Did I just hear what I think I just heard? I’m staring at her. “What do you mean?” I ask her.
“She’s trying to hurt your reelection,” she says. “She’s lying her ass off.”
My heart wants to soar. “She is lying,” I say. “That’s a fact. Her ass is lying. I never raped her. I would never rape a woman. But how do you know she’s lying?”
Rain looks at me. “What pregnant woman in their right mind would stand behind a podium, in front of all those cameras, and announce that her unborn child is the child of a rape, and she wants the world to know? If that was true, wouldn’t she have gone to the cops first? Wouldn’t her lawyers have contacted your lawyers to try and work something out? I don’t know how that shit goes, but I know if Ayden’s father would have raped me, and I’m pregnant with his child, there’s no way I would have put that on front street like that. For my unborn child’s sake, there’s no way!”
My heart is soaring.
“If she just wanted to hurt you because she claims you hurt her, then locking your ass up for rape would have done the trick. But if it’s all politics, and she wants to hurt you politically, then she goes in front of the cameras. She needed to show it.”
Then she gives me a look that makes me know, for the first time in my life, that I have an ally that’s not Gerard, and that’s not a member of my family. “This is going to be the story of your campaign, from here on out,” she tells me.
“I’ve got work to do.”
She’s nodding her head this time. “Oh, you got to stop that bitch.”
I smile. Because she’s right. Fuck what Laura said. Fuck all that shit. I’ve got to take control of this narrative myself.
I go to Rain, and pull her into my arms. This news hurts like a motherfuck, but at least I have a good woman in my corner. At least I have that. And she doesn’t believe Laura. She saw right through that bitch, and she’s right about what she saw.
She’s right as rain.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Bobby’s cell phone’s blowing up as Gerard Bakker picks us up later that same night and drives us to City Hall for an emergency meeting with the campaign staff. Bobby’s father calls. His mother calls. His brothers and sisters call. Everybody in his family calls, except for his brother Brent, the police chief. But Bobby tells Gerard not to worry about that either. Brent’s like that, he says.
A lot of his former girlfriends are calling, too, saying they’ll speak up on his behalf and tell what kind of man he really is. He’s no Harvey Weinstein, they say, and Loose Laura, as they call her, isn’t going to try to turn him into some raping monster.
But through all of this, I’m just stunned that Bobby asked me to tail along.
The Me Too movement, I know, is a for real, positive thing. Many of those bastards need calling out. But I also know some of these women are taking it too far. Some of these women don’t have the purest motives, and are hopping on the bandwagon to get whatever it is they’re after. Because I’ll believe the sky is green before I believe a guy like Bobby Sinatra would be going around raping women because they wanted to leave him. Call me naïve, and missing the point, but I just ain’t buying it.
And it’s true. I don’t know the man like that. I’ve only known him for a few months. But I can only go by what I see and feel all these days and nights I’ve been with him. And every single one of those times I’ve been with him, and watched him in action, I’ve never gotten any bad vibes from him, or red flags. And I’m experienced at that shit. I’ve known men who crossed the line and I’ve known plenty of’em. And I could feel their creepiness. It oozed out of them like a disease.
But with Bobby? No way. All I feel is positive energy around Bobby. Besides, I’m no follower. Until I see differently for myself, I have to go with what I know to be true. And I’m definitely not going along with what some woman who came across to me as fake as a four-dollar bill claims to be true.
But as I’m listening to Bobby answer call after call and handle it like the pro he is, I’m also not as confident as I probably come across. A part of me is scared to death. Not because I think it’s true. I don’t think that. But because I feel so out of my league in this car.
Gerard’s talking way over my head about political shit I know nothing about.
Another woman on the front passenger seat, a pretty woman with a scar on her face as if she’d been through some serious trauma in her past, the woman Bobby introduced to me as Kathy, one of his senior aides, is going on and on about push polls and tracking polls and how they have to launch an aggressive counterattack to protect their numbers. What I know about polls is what I hear on MSNBC and CNN, but I have no clue what they’re talking about.
But Bobby knows, and he’s answering all of their questions. And another thing. During the entire ride to City Hall, while sitting side by side in the backseat of Gerard’s Lincoln Navigator, Bobby’s holding my hand. Like he appreciates me being there. Like the rest of them are his employees doing a job for him. But I’m his support.
Bobby Sinatra: In All the Wrong Places (The Rags to Romance Series Book 1) Page 18