Rumor Has It

by Cheris Hodges

  “Whatever. I’m not sure about outing her. You know how these things turn out. The man is forgiven and the woman is called all kinds of names for the rest of her life.”

  “You’re forgetting a few things: we’re not talking presidential sex, we’re not talking John Edwards, and Robert is a black man. The media loves to see the rise and fall of a black man in politics. And for once, I actually want to see this story as well.”

  “But do we really want to take it this far? Wait, don’t answer that and I’m going to pretend that I don’t know anything about any of this.”

  “What if I put you on retainer and you represent her in case things get hairy? I’m going to put her story out there.”

  “I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this. Bring me my check along with a salted caramel brownie from Amelie’s or there is no deal.”

  “You drive a hard bargain, counselor. I’ll see you in about thirty minutes.”

  After a quick shower and two more cups of coffee, Liza was dressed and ready to bring Robert to his knees. Part of her mourned for the man she thought he was, and on the drive to Amelie’s, she almost talked herself out of the plan. She wanted to see if Jackson’s Pollyanna view of politics was right. For his sake, she hoped that it was. But the realist inside her wasn’t going to leave his beating Robert to chance. People deserved to know the unfettered truth about Robert freaking Montgomery.

  Standing in line at the bakery to get the brownies she’d promised Chante, Liza strengthened her resolve. Robert tried to ruin her with lies; she’d bury him with the truth and then tweet about it. It was the only fair thing to do. He knew that if she had the call girl stigma attached to her, it would destroy her business. And there was no way in hell that she was going to allow Robert to beat her. She just hoped Jackson would understand.

  Jackson, now freshly showered and dressed in a pair of black slacks and his 82nd Airborne T-shirt, sat in his campaign headquarters surrounded by three advisors and Teresa—who wasn’t excited about Jackson’s opening statement.

  “This is boring,” she said flatly. “Who wrote this?”

  “I did,” Jackson said. “This is what my campaign is about and it’s the truth. What do you suggest?” He was starting to get frustrated. He couldn’t remember the last time he had someone pick out his clothes and what kind of bottled water he should drink at the podium. Smart Water, the image consultant had said, gave him an air of pretension. Hell, he thought it was damned good water. So, he’d agreed to take the Deer Park.

  But he wasn’t about to let anyone change his words. Jackson knew he wasn’t flashy. He hadn’t been running as the shiny suit candidate and he didn’t plan to do so in this debate.

  “What I suggest is you put away the political cliché handbook and be the man people met at all of those campaign stops. Be the man who had a bunch of scared parents watching their kids march into Uncle Sam’s army smiling and feeling secure.” She tossed his speech back at him. “This is bullshit. This is boring. This isn’t going to get you elected, and it damn sure isn’t going to beat Montgomery.”

  “I think we need a break.” He wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold back his dissatisfaction.

  “No,” Teresa said. “We need to focus. Something we should have been doing over the last few days, but it seems as if your head was someplace else.”

  “Is this about me having a life?” Jackson snapped.

  Teresa slammed her hand on the desk. “I’ve spent months breaking my back for you. Making sure this campaign was everything you wanted it to be—clean, fair, and honest.”

  “What are you saying?” he demanded. “Haven’t I done everything that I’m supposed to do?”

  “I don’t think you get this. You don’t realize how much people believe in you and I’m watching you piss it away.”

  “We need a break,” he said again, wondering where Teresa’s hostility was coming from. He shooed the other advisors out of the room, then turned to face Teresa. “What in the hell is your problem?”

  “My problem?” She snorted. “I’m not the one with the problem. You’re in and out of Liza Palmer’s office and house as if people aren’t watching you. As if Robert and his ilk don’t have a kid with an iPhone following you around Charlotte looking for tarnish.”

  “So what? I’ve been seen with Liza? And?”

  “You’re still naïve. It used to be cute. Scandal is going to get people interested in the election, and the side that underhandedly throws the most dirt is going to win. That’s not going to be us—because you think that’s wrong. You think Robert Montgomery isn’t going to bring up your personal life tonight? I bet you invited her, didn’t you?”

  “I did.”

  “Dumb. She can’t be your girlfriend now. She can’t even be your friend.”

  “What does that have to do with the election?”

  “Everything. You’re forgetting that there are conservative Democrats as well. Your relationship with Liza is going to ruin everything.”

  “Is this about the South Park Madam rumors? She came out and said—”

  “Who believes the pimp?” Teresa asked. “Look, Jackson, I’m not just being a hard-ass. I believe in you. I want you to win. But you’re not making this easy for us.”

  “So, what am I supposed to do?”

  “I’m going to ask for the last time, cool it until the election is over. Can you just take a cold shower or something?”

  Jackson stroked his forehead. He knew he needed to focus on the election, but Liza was quickly becoming just as important to him as the senate seat. But he knew damned well if Montgomery won it would mean more suffering for the military families, for the wounded warriors, and the poor people in the district who end up losing to developers would end up with nothing.

  But would Liza be there come Election Day or would she write him off as another man who’d abandoned her?

  “You and Robert don’t believe in the same thing,” Teresa said, as if she was tapping into Jackson’s brain. “If he wins, you won’t be the only one to lose.”

  “You’re right,” he said.

  “We’ve had this conversation before. Is it going to register and stick this time? We’re getting too close to the finish line to let those losers win.”

  Jackson nodded. He’d already warned Liza that he was going to be busy. Maybe she would understand and know this had nothing to do with her.

  Chapter 22

  Liza shook her head as Chante finished one brownie and started another. “Do you know how good it feels not to have to starve myself to fit in a wedding dress?” she asked between bites.

  “I don’t know why you were doing that anyway. You were going to be such a beautiful bride.”

  “Whatever. I wonder if I can get my deposit back from the designer. What the hell was I thinking? There were signs.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Chante pushed her half-eaten brownie aside. “He’d come home smelling like perfume, and every time I said something it was always ‘I was at a campaign stop.’ Or some old lady had hugged him. Then he’d finish with a flourish. I didn’t believe in him and was allowing others to fill my head with lies. He was the liar. I’m beginning to see why he won so many cases. Robert outlawyered me most of the time. I believed him for a while.”

  “And when did you start questioning him? Because it sure did feel like you believed him for a long time.”

  Chante sighed. “At first, I did think you were stirring up trouble. I mean, after Robert proposed, it seemed as if you just disappeared and I needed you. The little nuggets that he dropped in my ear made sense, and every time I called you and got your voicemail, what he was saying became easier to believe.”

  “You do realize that I was working on his campaign and I run my own business. But wait, little nuggets? Before I caught him with that girl?”

  She shrugged. “Maybe he knew that you’d be the one to catch him and he was going for the pre-emptive strike. And you’d never been that busy bef
ore. I guess he knew the right buttons to push.”

  Liza nodded. “Still, was Robert saying all of this from the beginning or after the photos?”

  Chante toyed with her brownie. “I might have mentioned to him that I thought things had gotten weird between us. And . . .”

  “You asked him again if there had been anything between us?”

  She nodded and popped a piece of brownie in her mouth. “Robert told me more than you’ve ever told me about you two. And at the time, I thought he was telling the truth.”

  “What did that son of a bitch say?”

  “It doesn’t matter. I know he was lying.”

  Liza shook her head. “No, I want to know.”

  “Well, you know I’ve never kept it a secret that I thought you and Robert were more than friends. He told me that a long time ago you came on to him.”

  “That lying dog!”

  “Keep your voice down.”

  “I’ve never come on to Robert, not even after getting plastered at the East End Martini Bar.”

  “He’s a very convincing man,” she said. “And that’s what scares me about him winning this senate seat.”

  “Just think, I thought his charm and persuasiveness would be the best thing about him. Who knew that he was going to use that against me?” Liza rose to her feet and paced back and forth. Then she stopped and faced Chante. “You know why Robert and I were so close?”

  Chante shook her head. Liza sighed. “I thought that my dad was probably a lot like him when he was younger. I never got a chance to know my dad because when my mother couldn’t have more kids, he left us for another family. I stayed with my aunt until I went off to college. Dad sent money but I haven’t seen him since I was eight years old.”

  “How did Robert remind you of your dad? That’s been one thing we’ve never talked a lot about.”

  “I always thought they had the same smile. I even thought he was my brother for a little while. Then I met his family. Once upon a time, I hoped he’d lead me to my dad. Then I realized it wasn’t going to happen and I thought Robert was my best friend.”

  “Some friend,” Chante said. “I just can’t get over the fact that he spread that call girl rumor about you. Who does that?”

  “Had I known he was such a jackass, I never would’ve introduced you two. I just thought it would’ve been great to bring all of my favorite people together and create our own little family unit.”

  “Aww, Liza,” Chante said, then offered her friend a sad smile. “Too bad it didn’t work out.”

  She waved her hand. “I know it sounds corny. I’m an adult, I should be over my daddy issues, but I’m just a big sack of . . .”

  “You’re fine, Liza. And I’m sorry I allowed Robert to get in my head when you’ve always been one of the most honest and trustworthy people I’ve ever known. You’re my sister and I love you.”

  “So, are you going to help me bring the bastard down?”

  Chante held out her fist to Liza. “With pleasure!” The ladies bumped fists and giggled, sounding as if they had been transported back to college. But this was a serious matter. Something that they had to handle swiftly and discreetly.

  “How are we going to find this woman?” Chante asked. “I’m sure she didn’t tell you her name or give you her phone number.”

  Liza pulled up a picture of Robert and the woman on her iPad. Chante rolled her eyes at the image. “Have you ever watched that show Catfish on MTV?” Liza asked.

  “Nope. Why?”

  “The guys who host that show use Google to search faces. And I’ve used it a couple of times when I’ve gotten clients out of some sticky situations. I’m willing to bet that this girl has a Facebook or Instagram account. It’s hard to stay hidden these days. And Robert should’ve remembered that when I told him I had pictures.” Shaking her head, Liza began doing the search.

  Chante was about to respond when the door to her office swung open and Taiwon stalked in. “Are we working or having girl talk?” he asked smugly.

  Chante leapt to her feet. “I’m actually meeting with a client, Mr. Myrick. Is there something you need that is super urgent and you couldn’t be bothered to knock on the door?”

  Liza wanted to give her friend a high five because this Myrick man was rude and needed to be slapped.

  “I didn’t realize you were actually working,” he said, then headed out the door.

  Chante closed her eyes and counted to ten. “I want to be a partner, I want to be a partner,” she chanted.

  “Is it worth it?” Liza asked. “I mean, you could always open your own firm. Because if that’s something you deal with every day, I don’t know how you do it. I’m guessing he’s one of the partners.”

  “That’s one thing I’ve always admired about you. One day you decided that you didn’t want to work for someone else and you opened your firm. I need security. I need a little safety and making partner here is going to give me that. Taiwon is one of the managing partners and I need his vote. But I can do without his attitude. Such a diva.”

  “Why don’t you start living? You’re too good to be working here with jackasses like tall, dumb, and jerk face.”

  “All of the partners aren’t like Taiwon. If they were, I would’ve left a long time ago.”

  Liza crossed her legs as she watched the software do its thing. “They don’t deserve . . . Hot damn! Here she is.” She turned her iPad around to show Chante the Spokeo page that showed the woman from the picture. Dayshea Brown, who lived on Parkwood Avenue. “Now that we have a name, all we need to do is find her Facebook page.”

  “What if she doesn’t have a Facebook page?”

  Liza shot up her eyebrow in disbelief. “Who doesn’t have a Facebook page these days? Other than you?”

  “Point taken,” Chante said as she crossed over to Liza and looked over her shoulder as she searched. Seconds later, the image of Dayshea Brown filled the iPad screen. She was doing the infamous duck lip kiss face, dressed in a too tight T-shirt showing off her ample breasts.

  “And that is what he wanted to have sex with while I was at home waiting for him,” Chante hissed. “I feel like I need to be dipped in Clorox.”

  “I told you he’s attracted to hood rats. Sort of like that Kanye West song.”

  “Eww, you know I don’t listen to that crap. What’s the name of the song?”

  Liza shrugged. “I don’t remember, but that’s beside the point. Let’s focus on finding this girl and getting her to tell her story.”

  “Maybe we should wait until after the debate,” she said.

  Liza nodded. “Knowing him and Nic, they are going to try to have Robert look like some saint. We know that isn’t true and the voters should know that as well.”

  “And then this girl will come out and tell everyone about her romp with Robert. How are we going to deflect attention from me, who people think he’s still going to marry?”

  Liza chewed her bottom lip. “Well, you can tell everyone that the engagement is off because he’s a dishonest and dishonorable man. One statement.”

  Chante pursed her lips and rolled her eyes. “You and I both know that won’t be enough.”

  “I can make it enough,” Liza said.

  “You’re good, but you are no Judy Smith.”

  “Whatever! Remember the NBA player who’s wife was arrested for fighting at the NC Music Factory? Why do you think that story disappeared?”

  “Because no one really gives a shit about the NBA in this city? I’m not saying that you aren’t good at your job, but this is sex and politics. These stories don’t just disappear,” Chante said. “Still, I trust that you will keep the media off my back.” She looked down at her left hand and stroked her empty ring finger. Chante closed her eyes and thought about the ring that Robert had given her. “That bastard.”

  “You should’ve kept the ring, we could have pawned it,” Liza said. “It had great clarity.”

  “Shut up. How much do you think I would’ve gott
en for it?”

  Liza shook her head. “Too late now. So, are we going to go to her place or not?”

  “Why not? Leaving this office means that I can avoid whatever Taiwon wanted.” Liza and Chante headed to the parking deck and drove to the north Charlotte neighborhood.

  “What if she’s at work?” Chante asked as she navigated down the street.

  “Five dollars says that she isn’t.” Liza held her hand out to her friend. “Make sure I get my money.”

  Chante pulled into the driveway of the house that the GPS had led them to. The front door was open and the volume of the TV could be heard from the yard.

  “I want my money,” Liza said as she and Chante headed up the steps. “Hello?” She tapped on the torn screen door. Dayshea walked to the door, her head covered by a greasy satin cap and holding a cigarette in her left hand.

  “Who the hell are you bitches?” she asked as she tightened the belt around her robe.

  “Dayshea Brown, I’m Liza Palmer.”

  She gave Liza a long, hard once-over. “Oh, yeah, I know who you are. You walked in on me screwing your old man. I know you didn’t come here looking for trouble.” She squared up behind the door and Liza grinned.

  “Honey, he was not my man and I’m here because I have questions.”

  “I don’t have time for this! It’s almost time for The Young and The Restless and I’m not missing my stories because you have questions.” She sucked her teeth and rolled her eyes. “Anyway, you need to be asking him questions because I . . .”

  Chante pushed Liza aside. “Is Victor Newman still raising hell?”

  Dayshea laughed. “Don’t tell me you watch my show. What do you want?”

  “The truth about you and Robert,” Chante said. “How did y’all meet? What did he tell you about himself?”