by Lynn Ames
“I’m sorry. I should’ve made the introduction,” Rebecca said.
“Not at all.” Kate took Carolyn’s outstretched hand. “I’m Kate, and this is my wife, Jay. I understand that you were responsible for securing the venue for our press conference this afternoon. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Just then, the door opened and Dara climbed into the car. “Well, that was fun.” She kicked off her shoes and put her head back against the headrest.
“If you’re too tired…” Rebecca said.
“Not at all. What I am is famished.”
“Good. I got us a reservation at West,” Carolyn said.
“Oh, you’re in for a treat,” Dara told Kate and Jay. “West offers a spectacular view of the LA skyline and the beaches at Santa Monica.”
“More importantly, it’s a little off the beaten path and not quite so popular with the tourists,” Rebecca added.
“Sounds delightful, but would any restaurant really be that busy at nine o’clock on a Monday night?” Jay asked.
“Yes.” Dara, Rebecca, and Carolyn answered in unison.
“I guess that answers that question,” Kate said.
Dara leaned forward and tapped Jay on the knee. “I haven’t had a chance to ask. How did your press conference go?”
“Everything was going fine until a sleazy tabloid reporter tried to insinuate that Kate might’ve had something to do with the leak.”
“Which bothered Jay far more than it bothered me,” Kate broke in. “He was just trying to get a rise out of her.”
“Well, it worked,” Jay muttered.
“Do you know yet what the results were?”
“The first online reports from USA Today, the LA Times, the New York Times, CNN, and the Huffington Post were as good as we hoped. We didn’t get a chance to see how World News Tonight, Nightly News, and The CBS Evening News played it on television.
“That reminds me.” Jay reached into her purse. “I forgot to turn my phone back on after the movie.” She had barely pushed the power button before the phone began buzzing with stored messages.
Kate peered over Jay’s shoulder and frowned. “Better listen,” she said quietly.
“I’m sorry,” Jay said. “I don’t want to be rude, but—”
“Don’t give it a thought,” Rebecca said. “We understand completely.”
Jay pushed a button and put the phone to her ear. Her eyes closed as she listened and her face drained of color. When she’d dropped the phone into her lap, Kate took her hand.
“What is it?”
Jay shook her head.
As badly as she wanted to know what the message had been, Kate was cognizant that they were not alone. This was not a time to push.
“Is there anything we can do to help?” Carolyn asked.
“No, thank you.” Jay cleared her throat. “I’m sorry. It appears I should have left the phone off.”
“No need to apologize. This is important,” Dara said.
“It’s your big night and all I want to do is celebrate with you. Thank you so much, again, for inviting us along. The movie was amazing. I loved that book, and you really brought it to life. So many movies that are based on novels lose the heart of the story. Rebecca, you wrote a fabulous screenplay. And Dara? You truly captured the essence of the character and the underlying message of redemption and the power of love to heal. I’m really impressed.”
“Thank you,” Dara said. “With a great script, it’s easy to make the characters come alive.”
“Had you read the book?” Jay asked Dara.
Kate watched as Rebecca, who was sitting directly across from her, squirmed in her seat before looking out the darkened car window. Wonder what that’s about?
“I did,” Dara answered. “I was intrigued by the concept.”
“Oh, look. We’re here,” Rebecca said. She reached for the door handle before the SUV had even come to a complete stop.
Kate raised an eyebrow. Interesting.
“You’re not vegan, are you?” Dara asked her. “Because this place serves great filet mignon.”
“Count me in,” Kate said.
“I really like them,” Rebecca said, as she hung up her dress and stowed her shoes in the closet. “A lot.”
“Who? Kate and Jay? I like them too.”
Rebecca emerged just in time to see Dara struggling with the zipper to her dress. “May I?”
“Please.”
Rebecca lightly brushed her fingertips along the chiseled contours of Dara’s shoulders, across her collarbones, and downward, pausing to savor the softness of the swell of Dara’s breasts.
Dara’s contented sigh was all the invitation Rebecca needed. She kissed a particularly sensitive spot behind Dara’s left ear, feeling her own heart rate increase as Dara leaned back into her.
Several more minutes of glorious exploration later, Dara turned in Rebecca’s arms.
“I thought I gave you a job to do.”
“You did?”
“I did. Unzip my dress. Please.” Dara said the last with her lips brushing against Rebecca’s mouth.
“Right.” Rebecca did as requested, easing the material off Dara’s shoulders and helping her step out of the dress when it fell to the floor. Both of their bras and panties followed in short order as Dara backed Rebecca up, tumbling them onto the bed.
“Have I mentio—Oh.”
“There’s a time for words…”
“Ah.”
“And a time for action.” Rebecca flipped them over so that she was hovering over Dara. “Now would be the latter.”
Kate fluffed the pillows and pulled Jay in to snuggle against her shoulder. “You okay?” She kissed her on the forehead.
Jay wrapped her arms around Kate’s bare midriff. “If by okay you mean, will I live? Yes. If by okay you mean, am I all right with Black Quill reaming me out for talking to the media, essentially putting a gag order on me, and demanding that I fly back to New York immediately to meet with their lawyers…”
“We did the right thing.”
Jay shifted so that she was looking directly at Kate. “Did we?”
“Of course we did. Would you rather have waited and let the media shoot at you like a fish in a barrel?”
“Nice imagery.” Jay made a face. “No. But I warned you that the publisher wasn’t going to like it.”
Kate felt heat radiate through her body as anger boiled up within her. “Your publisher is not my concern. Your reputation and welfare are.”
Jay sat up and moved away so that they were no longer touching. “They may not be your concern, but they sure as heck are mine! This is my livelihood we’re talking about, not some hypothetical PR problem.”
“I’m well aware of what this is, and what it isn’t. Your publisher should be standing behind you one hundred percent, issuing an unequivocal denial. Instead, they do nothing publicly, and privately, they treat you as if you’re guilty of something.”
“This is a legal issue for them. Of course they’re going to cover their asses.”
“How many best-sellers have you delivered for them? How much press have you earned them? How many awards and prizes? How much money have they raked in from your books? How many topflight authors have they been able to sign because they have you in their stable?”
Kate threw the covers off and stalked into the bathroom. She opened the tap, threw cold water on her face, shut off the water, and stared into the mirror. “What is it you’re really mad about, Kyle?”
She grabbed a towel and dried off. “You’re mad that you can’t protect her. You can’t control this. There are too many moving parts—too many unknowns.”
By the time Kate returned to the bedroom, Jay was lying under the covers, her arms wrapped around a pillow, facing away from her. Kate’s heart hurt. In all the years they’d been together, they’d never gone to bed angry. It was one of the keys to their successful marriage.
“Sweetheart?”
&n
bsp; Jay didn’t budge.
“C’mon, Jay. Please? I’m sorry I lost it. Can we talk about it?”
“I’m done talking.” Jay’s voice was muffled. “Right now, I don’t want to talk, I don’t want to think. I just want to sleep.”
Kate slid into bed and turned on her side to face Jay. “I’m frustrated and I shouldn’t take it out on you.”
“You think?”
“Apparently not lately.” Kate put a hand on Jay’s shoulder. “Would you at least look at me?”
“Go to bed, Kate. Tomorrow’s another day.”
Kate swallowed the lump in her throat. What was happening to them? When had they become this couple?
“No.” She sat up and turned on the light.
“What?”
“No. No, we are not going down this road.”
“Which road is that?” Jay still hadn’t moved.
“The road where we think it’s okay to go to bed angry just this once. Then ‘just this once’ becomes once more, and so on, and so on, until we’re that couple lying in the dark with nothing to say to each other.”
“That’s a leap.”
“Not to me, it’s not. Jamison Parker.” Kate waited until Jay finally rolled over to face her. “I love you more than anything on Earth. You’re my lover, my best friend, my wife, my world. We made a vow decades ago that we would never go to bed angry with each other. Do you remember that?”
“I do.”
“And yet, here we are. I’m trying to apologize to you”—Kate held up a hand to forestall interruption—“not for the press conference, because that was the right professional decision. But my anger was directed at your publisher and the situation. I’m sorry that I took it out on you. My instinct, as you know, is always to protect you, to keep you safe. I guess I feel like I have no control over so much of this, and I’m not used to feeling helpless to help you.”
Reluctantly, Jay sat up. “I love you too. But this one is mine to do, and I feel like you trampled on my instincts and pressured me into doing something I wasn’t confident was the best course of action.”
“I just—”
“You just went into ‘I’m Kate Kyle, super PR guru mode, and I know what to do, so do what I think is best and everything will work out fine.’”
Kate recoiled at the bluntness of Jay’s words. “Is that what you think this was about? My ego?”
“Not ego. No. But you were myopic. You weren’t open to hearing my thoughts about it. It was as if your opinion was more important than mine.”
“That’s not true.”
“Isn’t it?”
Was it? Had she bulldozed over Jay? Kate thought back to the conversation over lunch. When she had laid out the strategy, she simply assumed that Jay agreed. Kate bowed her head.
“I’m sorry. I was sure you were on board. It never occurred to me that you weren’t.”
“I already had told you that I had reservations—that I was worried about Black Quill.”
“I thought we’d been through that and I’d allayed those doubts.”
“No. That was your perception. Actually, you dismissed my concerns and moved on.”
Kate shook her head. What a mess. “If I did that, I’m truly sorry. I was wrong. I should’ve given you ample opportunity to make your case.”
“This isn’t a court of law. This is my life and my business. What I want is to have the final say over my own business affairs.”
“Agreed.”
“When I want your opinion, I’ll ask for it.”
“Even if it involves my area of expertise?”
“Yes. Even then.”
“Okay.”
Finally, Jay reached out and briefly laid a hand on Kate’s cheek. “It isn’t that I don’t trust your professional judgment. But somewhere along the line in the past little while it feels like you’ve lost respect for me.”
Kate stiffened. “Never.”
“Whether or not it’s true, that’s how it feels to me. I’m a successful businesswoman in my own right. I deserve to be treated with respect.”
“Of course you do.”
“I want you to be there to support me as I would support you. But I’m through being a bystander in my own affairs.”
“You were never…” The rest of the sentence died on Kate’s lips when she saw the expression on Jay’s face. “Fair enough.”
“Okay then.”
“Okay.”
“Are we good now?”
Kate thought about it. Were they? She felt off balance, as if the world had tilted on its axis. “I don’t know. Are we?”
“I guess we’ll see as we go forward. I’m sure we both agree this is a long way from over.”
“Unfortunately, you’re right.”
Jay leaned forward and took Kate’s face in her hands. “I love you. We’re going to get through this.”
“Together?”
“Always.” Jay kissed her, gently at first, and then more deeply. “You’re my rock. But you can’t save me from the world. What you can do is face it with me, by my side.”
“Always,” Kate said. She ran her fingers through Jay’s hair and pulled her down so that they were lying in each other’s arms. “You’re my heartbeat, Jay.”
“And you’re mine. Now please turn out the light so we can get some shuteye. It’s going to be a long day tomorrow.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Jay was more tired than she could remember being in a very long time. She and Kate had spent most of yesterday in airports and on planes, and the three-hour time change between Los Angeles and New York wasn’t helping. She’d rejected Kate’s suggestion that they fly directly into New York. She wanted to sleep in their bed in Albany.
“You should’ve thought that one through a little better, kiddo,” she mumbled to herself. She’d forgotten how much she hated taking the train to the City at the crack of dawn.
Jay checked her watch and pushed through the revolving door into the midtown Manhattan building that housed the offices of Black Quill Publishing. She was five minutes early.
She signed in with the security guard behind the large wooden desk in the main lobby, then waited as he called upstairs.
“Someone will be down to get you shortly, Ms. Parker.”
“Thank you.” Jay wandered a short distance away. She watched as harried men and women in business suits scurried by and impatiently pushed the elevator buttons. She didn’t come here very often; most of her interactions with her editor were electronic in nature. That didn’t bother her at all, as she had never been overly fond of the hustle and bustle of corporate America. Even when she’d been a reporter for Time, she’d much preferred spending her days in the field or writing at her desk at home.
“Ms. Parker?”
Jay started when a girl in a thigh-length skirt, tight blouse, and platform shoes touched her on the arm. The girl looked young enough to be her daughter. “Yes.”
“Follow me, please.”
“Sure.”
The young woman led her to an open elevator. They stepped inside and the girl pushed the button for the twenty-seventh floor. Remarkably, she and Jay were alone.
“I’ve read all your books. I love your writing style.”
“Thanks.”
Silence.
“Your imagery is so vivid. I love the descriptors you use.”
“Thanks.”
“I want to be a writer someday.”
“That’s great. What’s holding you back?”
“What?” The girl looked blankly at Jay.
“Why aren’t you writing now?”
“Oh. Well, I’ve got a lot going on. I’m here eight hours a day and then my boyfriend lives across town.”
“If you aspire to be a writer, you need only sit down in your chair and start putting words on the page. Otherwise, it’ll always be just an unfulfilled dream.”
The elevator dinged, signaling that they’d reached their floor. “Wow. That was deep.”
T
hey exited the elevator and the girl punched in a code on a keypad and opened the glass door to admit Jay.
“Words to live by,” Jay said. She followed the girl past the reception desk and down the hall. After passing three closed doors, they arrived at a glassed-in conference room.
“This is where I leave you.” The girl pulled open the right-hand door. “Ms. Parker is here,” she announced to the three men and a woman who sat talking quietly at the far end of a glossy, oblong wooden conference table.
Jay recognized the man sitting farthest away as Horace Fenton, Black Quill’s publisher. She had met him several times over the years. No one else at the table was familiar to her. Her stomach did a flip. Where was her editor?
“Come in, Jay.” Fenton motioned her to a chair next to the woman. He waited for her to be seated. “This is Thomas Ellersby, head of our legal department, Anthony Digorio, deputy counsel, and Nancy Maclin, our new editor-in-chief.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you all,” Jay said. She made sure to make eye contact with each of them. If they were going to mothball her book, she was not going to make it easy for them.
“Ms. Parker,” Ellersby began, “we have reviewed your submitted manuscript, along with your Time magazine story from 1989 regarding the Hyland incident. We also requested a copy of the Hyland Commission report, and have been assured that a redacted version will be supplied to us in due course.”
As Ellersby cleared his throat and focused on his notes, Jay noted that neither he, nor his deputy, nor Fenton, nor the editor-in-chief sitting next to her had looked her in the eye. Anger bubbled up from within. “I would be happy to discuss each of those documents with you.” She forced herself to keep her tone level.
“There is no need.” Fenton steepled his fingers on the table. “Black Quill is a business, Jay. The buck stops with me. I have to listen to, and abide by, what my attorneys have to say. I’m sure you understand.”
Jay contemplated many responses. I understand that you have no loyalty. I understand that you’re a spineless, gutless… “What are you telling me, Mr. Fenton? Are you terminating my contract?”