by Carol Rose
She seemed more appalled than pleased, he noted. He felt pretty much the same himself.
“I know.” Drake took several steps toward her, rubbing the back of his neck. He’d never thought he’d win, either.
“Listen.” Holding up her hand to stop whatever she thought he’d been about to say, Molly said in a constricted voice. “Like I said, I never thought you’d win this thing…and Drake, you can’t keep it. You have to give it back.”
She snuffled back tears. “You’re too nice a guy to be a phony and go on being a phony. If you don’t give it back, this lie will follow you and you’ll have to lie and keep lying. You shouldn’t have to do that. You have to give it back.”
He’d already come to that conclusion himself, brooding on it as he drove home.
“It’ll follow me anyway.” Drake said in a level voice. “If I give it back or keep it, I’ll forever be tied to this lie.”
“Yes, I know.” She swiped a hand over her cheek. “But if you give it back—fess up to all this—at least you’ll have done the right thing. You’ll have to deal with it, but you’ll have come clean.”
“You know what will happen if I do that?” He asked the question in the same level voice.
“Yes, you’ll lose your job,” she admitted with tears now clogging her words.
“And I’ll lose my career as a writer of any sort.” He could feel the wry twist to his lips. “No news organization wants to keep a cheat and a liar on staff.”
Brushing at the moisture on her other cheek with the back of her hand, Molly nodded. “I know. I know and I feel—It’s my fault. I never should have helped you in this lie.”
“No,” Drake owned flatly. “This was my lie. You may have helped me with the blog information, but it was my name on every byline and me standing on that stage tonight accepting what should have been someone else’s award. This mess wasn’t your fault.”
Tears started coursing down her cheeks. “Yes, it was. You never could have done this if I hadn’t been complicit. I even encouraged you to apply for the spot. You’d applied to so many places—newspapers and television stations and everywhere. I just wanted to help.”
She stopped, sniffling back more tears, interrupting him as he started to speak. “I helped you lie and deceive, but I can’t let you go on this way. You have to tell your bosses and the Bloggie people.”
It killed him to watch her so upset. Drake moved toward her as she wiped at her streaming eyes. “Molly, I wanted to—“
“No!” She put up a protesting hand to hold him off. “You have to do this for you. You’re too nice a person to go on living a lie. No!”
Drake resisted the urge to hold her and wipe away her tears. “Molly. Listen—“
Brushing at her cheeks, Molly said with more heat. “No! You deserve better than to go on living this lie.”
She turned for the front door, saying in a tear-strangled voice, “I have to go now.”
Drake watched her disappear out the door, closing it heavily behind her.
“I know, Molly, I know,” he said to the door. “Even if it means my career.”
Turning to stare unseeing at the game highlights showing on the television screen, he mused aloud, “I didn’t have the chance to tell her I’d already decided to give the Bloggie back. It’s funny…, but she somehow makes it easier for me.”
* * *
“Levi.” Drake held the phone to his ear. The morning after the Bloggie Award Ceremony, he’d woken with even more clarity and resolve. He had to come clean, but he had to check on something first.
“Hey, Drake.” There was murmuring in the background and his friend then returned to the phone. “Sorry, I have to give my assistant some directions. So, what’s up?”
“Did you happen to watch the Bloggie Award Ceremony last night?”
“Ahhh, no. Now, if it had been the Golden Globes or the Oscars, that would be different.”
“Don’t be an arrogant smart-ass,” Drake told his friend as he pushed a hand through his hair.
Levi chuckled.
“Listen, Levi, I have a question that you—having a degree in entertainment law—might be able to answer.”
“I’ll try. Shoot.”
“Is there any likelihood of me having legal consequences from having had Molly help with the blog…? When I tell my bosses about having used her expertise, am I opening myself—or her—up for any legal action?”
“Wow,” Levi said, his voice sharpening. “What happened at these Bloggies?”
“I won. I mean, the blog I write won.” Drake looked at the award, still sitting on his lamp table. He still couldn’t believe it. He’d always thought he wrote well, but this writing had been about crap he didn’t even know.
“Your blog? The one you write?”
“Yes, that’s what I said.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “The one I have written with the information Molly supplied. I don’t anticipate continuing with it, though.”
“That means you won,” Levi replied. “Wait a minute. Did you get that news blogging job?”
“No. No, but I—I need to come clean about this blog thing. I stood on that stage last night and imagined the other home improvement bloggers sitting in the audience, who honestly deserved that award, and I—I knew I needed to end this farce.”
There was a hint of laughter in Levi’s words. “After you learned to fix your toilet?”
Drake chuckled in response to this mild teasing. “Yes. At least I got my dripping faucet fixed out of this mess.”
His friend was silent for a moment before asking, “Does Molly know you’re going to do this? Have you told her?”
“No.” When he thought about her tears and her insistence that he was too nice a guy to lie, he was tempted to think she might really love him. “Not yet. But I will.”
“So, you’re wondering if your bosses could bring legal action against you?” Levi asked.
“Yes, I just want to prepare myself.”
“Ummm. I think it’s unlikely. Network people don’t want to draw negative public opinion. Even if there were a few do-it-yourselfers who get up in arms when this gets out and want to lynch you and the network, most people won’t really care. Networks are viewed as being big and powerful. The opposite of writers. You’re not big enough news, buddy. And it’s not like you knifed somebody or killed someone when you were driving drunk.”
“You mean, I’m not bad enough?”
Levi laughed. “There’ll be some backlash, but not a lot.”
“And there’s no chance that anyone in this mess will come after Molly?” She’d only been helping him and he couldn’t allow Molly to somehow get crap about it.
“Naw. I wouldn’t think she’ll be more than a blip on the screen. You don’t even have to tell them who was helping you or where you got the information.”
Relief flooded Drake. He might have to find a new career, but knowing Molly was in the clear helped a lot.
* * *
The next morning, Drake looked grimly around the conference table, seeing as he expected, not only Mike, his boss, but Jerome, the big network boss, and several others from the Weblog Award organization, including its president, Sal Robinowitzc.”
“I appreciate your all coming today,” Drake began, his throat feeling dry and scratchy.
“What’s this all about, Drake?” Jerome leaned forward, his cufflinks subtly winking from the wrists of the tailored shirt that extended just beyond the sleeves of his jacket.
“I’m glad you asked,” Drake started. “I have a confession and…an apology to make to you all.”
Looking down at the polished surface of the table, he took a breath and plunged in. “I wrote a blog about home improvement projects—about dry wall and flooring and putting in a steam bathroom.”
Drake looked up, holding the gaze of his boss before turning toward the president of the Weblog Awards. “I just won a Bloggie for writing about those kinds of projects. I know you all assumed I must be an e
xpert at home improvement, but I’m not.”
Several spoke up at once in response to this.
“Yes.”
“Of course, you won fair and square,” Sal insisted.
“Aren’t you an expert?”
Nodding, Mike asked in a fatherly voice, “What’s the problem, Drake?”
“Until a month or so ago, I’d never worked with my hands, at all.” He met their gazes. “Not a moment. The only thing I’ve ever done to accomplish a home repair was to pick up the phone.”
“That can’t be true,” Mike protested.
“Don’t be silly.” Jerome Willstock frowned at him.
Drake lifted a hand in response. “Did I ever actually say I’d done any of these projects? Did I actually state that I’d done those projects? I just wrote how to do them.”
Sal dropped his gaze to the table, as if thinking. “No, I don’t think you ever did say you’d done those things. Not on any of the blogs I saw. It was just assumed.”
“You had to have done the projects or you couldn’t have written about them so knowledgably,” Mike insisted. “What’s this all about?”
Drake cleared his throat before saying, “I owe you all an apology. I—I’ve never done any construction work until just recently. No home repairs. No upgrades, nothing.”
A confusion of voices rose in response to this.
Raising his hand to speak, he said, “I got the blog information from---a friend. Someone who’d done a lot of that kind of work as a kid, in, um, his work and at his own home. But until recently—and at my informant’s insistence—have I never done any work with my hands.”
“But how could that be,” Mike started to say in a confused voice. “You wrote like an expert. You are an expert on these things.”
“No.” Drake met his gaze steadily. “No. My friend did the work—or had done those things in the past—and gave me the information. I wrote the blog, but I’ve only recently done any of the work, and then not with a lot of skill.”
Still frowning, Jerome asked, “So, you faked it all?”
Drake felt his jaw clench briefly. “As I said, I’ve never done home repair until recently.”
“But what about the House Today spot?” Mike asked plaintively. “You did that. I saw you.”
“Yes, I did. I recently learned some rudimentary plumbing, but that wasn’t until a few weeks ago.”
“That wasn’t faked?” Jerome was annoyed and it showed.
“Well. I did learn how to do that kind of repair—not with much expertise—but I got through the spot.”
Sal spoke up then. “This puts an entirely different spin on the blog award.”
“I know,” Drake said. “There were others up for the award who both know their stuff and wrote their blogs.”
“All those blogs were written by someone else?” Mike shook his head, seeming to be having a hard time accepting the truth.
“It’s as good as plagiarism, even if you did do the writing yourself,” Jerome snapped in response. “You’re fired, of course.”
“I expected to be.” Drake’s jaw felt tight and his belly seemed filled with radioactive sludge…but he felt better for coming clean. “I’m sorry, Gentlemen. I apologize for the deception.”
At least he’d finally done the right thing. Now, he just had to make things right with Molly.
If he could.
* * *
“Thanks.” That same morning Molly accepted the tissue Cheryl handed her. “I’m sorry. I came over to see how you’re doing after the lumpectomy, not to talk about my miserable love life.”
Cheryl laughed. “Hey. I don’t mind. I’m sick to death of talking about and thinking about my boob. Cancer-free now is what the doctor said. They caught it very early and the radiation is typically very effective, he said. Only time will tell. Anyway, I’m putting it all behind me now. So, this guy, Drake, hasn’t called you since you made your big declaration?”
Petite with short dark salt-and-pepper hair, her friend certainly looked healthy. The older woman shifted on the couch, lifting a slender leg to tuck under herself. “You haven’t talked to him at all?”
“Not really. I stopped by his place last night, but…he didn’t really say much. To be honest, I didn’t give him much of a chance,” another tear trickled down Molly’s cheek, “and now I’m wondering if I should have ever said anything, about wanting more or about the blog. Maybe I should have just kept boning him. At least, I’d have something.”
Lifting her eyebrows, her friend nodded as she grimaced comically. “And been less tense, too.”
Chuckling a moment as she wiped her damp cheeks, Molly’s laughter shifted into a hiccup as she blew her nose. “I’m such a putz.”
“I wouldn’t say that, honey.” Cheryl patted her shoulder, before gathering her empty cup of tea, disappearing into the kitchen. She returned and sat again at the opposite end of the couch. “If you didn’t give him a chance to say anything last night, why don’t you call him now?”
Molly turned a shocked face to her. “Are you kidding? I can’t do that. Did the chemo screw up your brain?”
Her friend shook her head, laughing. “No, I hope not. The surgery left me with a scarred boob and just gave me a shorter haircut. I’ve been thinking about this Drake guy and what a mess he’s in. It can’t feel good, even if he doesn’t return the—what did you call it? The Bloggie?”
Nodding, Molly swiped the tissue over her cheek again. “It’s a Weblog award.”
Cheryl twisted the square cut garnet ring on her right hand. “He can’t be feeling good. You also called him a phony--” She put out a hand to stop Molly’s protest. “I know. I know. He has been a phony, but he hasn’t had many other great options. And it’s not like he was doing scary things like that kid who stole airplanes and faked his way through all kinds of wild situations. I think they made a movie about him after he went to jail.”
“No…. Drake’s not that big a phony.” Molly fell silent, thinking about how great Drake had looked in his tux, the top buttons of his formal shirt undone and the jacket thrown carelessly over the back of his couch.
She swallowed, seized suddenly with the memory of what all they’d done on that couch last time.
Finally, she said in a tight voice, “He looked okay last night when I stopped by his house. No, Cheryl. I don’t think I’ll call him.”
* * *
“Ms. Summers, please tell me where I can find her?” Drake stood on the woman’s wide front porch. He shoved his hand in his pocket. “She won’t answer her phone. I’ve been by her house several times and she’s never there. You’re my last hope. I thought about showing up at her place with balloons and flowers or something, but I can’t even find her.”
He’d been going crazy, trying to get hold of Molly now that he’d realized his fear of rejection might be causing him to lose the best thing in his life.
The older woman smiled. “Balloons and flowers. What are you doing? Apologizing like a husband who forgot Valentines or proposing or something?”
“Neither—right now. I mean, I’m apologizing, but I thought the proposal should come after that.” He’d thought long and hard after he got fired from the blog. Being jobless didn’t make him a great candidate for marriage, but once he got on his feet, he wanted nothing more than to buy her a big rock and marry Molly.
Hell, just the thought had him smiling.
Drake didn’t know what had taken him so long. Every success had been better when he shared it with her and every struggle had been made easier when she was there with him. He’d lived in the safe zone too long. Protected his dignity at all cost and it was costing him the only woman he’d ever really loved.
“Can you tell me where I can find her?” Drake shifted his feet on the concrete of Cheryl’s big front porch. “Please?”
To his frustration, she’d ignored all his calls. Now that he was trying to get her, she was nowhere to be found. Every time his cell rang, he grabbed it up, hoping Molly
was calling him back. Just in the last couple of hours, Drake had been jolted by two calls from Mike, his former boss, putting the phone down in frustration each time Molly’s name hadn’t been the one to show up on the screen.
Cheryl sighed and shrugged. “I’m sorry, Drake, but I promised her. She...she doesn’t want to see you.”
“You talked to you? About us?”
“Yes, just this morning. She stopped by for tea and told me everything. I promised I wouldn’t talk about it or talk to you or anything. I can’t break my promise.” She looked regretful, as if she really wanted to help.
“That’s crazy. She doesn’t even know what I want to say. How can she know that she doesn’t want to hear it?”
“I know, but I promised.” Cheryl shrugged again.
“Okay. How about this,” he stopped, his brain in rapid-fire mode. “How about I guess? You don’t have to even tell me if I hit on the right answer. Just pause a little in your response.”
“I don’t know,” she said uneasily. “Molly’s my good friend and I don’t want to do anything that would upset her.”
“I don’t want to upset her, either,” Drake replied promptly. “But we’ve got unfinished business—and she needs to know that I took her advice. I confessed the whole thing about the blog.”
“You did?” Cheryl seemed astonished. “To who?”
“Everyone. The Weblog president and my bosses. I totally came clean. Don’t you think she’d want to know that?” he urged. “I have to talk to her, Cheryl. I should have called her sooner, but…I’ve had some things to work through.”
Cheryl looked at him oddly. “More men should work through their things.”
“Yes, we should.” He could see she was teetering and he hurried to say again, “You don’t have to break your promise. I’ll guess. Just pause. Okay?”
He wracked his brain, thinking where she might be, but Molly had no relatives in the area. He couldn’t keep cruising by her house or the neighbors would call the police.
“Is she here at your house?” Drake knew how much Molly respected Cheryl. Her taking refuge with her friend was a possibility. “Her friend, Abby, only has a one-bedroom apartment. And she’s pretty much promised me that Molly isn’t there.”