Americans had somehow slept through the corporate coup and were only now waking up to its aftermath. CLEAN had all the facts on its side but winning the hearts and minds of the public wasn’t simply a matter of education. It was convincing them to care at all.
* * *
“Yes, I understand,” Cathryn said solemnly, fighting the urge to throw her phone across her apartment. Bryce Tucker’s administrative assistant had called to clarify the chain of command at Lake Bunyan. Gregg and his legal team would continue operating independently out of the downtown hotel, but her department was to liaise with Karl Depew.
Don’t Make Waves.
Depew was a major horse’s ass. He’d already made her dealings with the press more difficult by moving all operations to the command center, a large gravel clearing near the barricades for the road going into Lake Bunyan. It was too difficult to provide security when they were scattered all over the county, he said, so instead of holding her press conferences in a comfortable hotel meeting room, they now would have them outside her portable office building in a parking lot. No microphone, no podium, no water glass.
Already today she’d scratched up her best heels, the ones that looked so great the night before with her black dress.
Making the press drive all the way out to Lake Bunyan would only antagonize them, she’d argued. That was the point, Depew said. If it got to be too much trouble, they’d drop the story and go back to writing about potholes and firemen plucking kittens out of trees.
Even his cantankerous disposition wasn’t the worst part of her day. Before her five o’clock press conference, Woody had handed her a revised edition of the press release that included what she believed to be two blatant lies from their operations team. It claimed the spill had been measured as ninety thousand gallons and that cleanup efforts were already forty percent complete.
Woody then explained that “cleaned up” meant different things to different people, to which she’d snapped, “And does ‘gallon’ mean something else too?” His only response was a sheepish shrug. They both knew the spill was at least three times bigger.
She fully understood the company’s need to portray the situation in its most positive light, but anything she said from the podium or put out in a press release that could be refuted would damage their credibility, hers in particular since she stood on the firing line every day. It was why Depew was taking such extraordinary measures to control access to the site. Though the sheriff’s department had evacuated cabins around the lake and blockaded the only road in or out, that wasn’t enough to satisfy Depew, whose security forces patrolled the woods at all hours to escort trespassers from within the perimeter. The last thing they needed was a curiosity seeker being asphyxiated by noxious fumes. It was bad enough having to take the heat for an oil spill. Cathryn couldn’t bear the thought of being responsible for someone’s death.
The sound of a fist on her door made her jump, and she knew immediately whose fist it was. Why couldn’t Depew knock with his knuckles like normal people?
He’d cleaned himself up, only in that the mud was gone. Different jeans and a white shirt. Same obnoxious cologne and lecherous grin. “I think we may have gotten off on the wrong foot this morning. How about we go grab some dinner? I drove by the Cowboy Grill just down the road. I hear they cook a mean porterhouse.”
Surely that was a coincidence. He couldn’t possibly have known about her dinner last night, since he and his team arrived by charter jet just before midnight. “I’ve already eaten.”
“Then how about you come along and watch me eat? I’ll buy you one of them sassy pink drinks with an umbrella.”
As he leaned closer, she caught the unmistakable odor of scotch whiskey, a smell from her childhood that to this day made her want to run away. As coolly as she could, she stepped back and said, “I already have plans for the evening. I didn’t pack the right things and I have to do some shopping before tomorrow.”
Deciding not to entertain his fantasies a moment longer, she closed the door in his face. It was true she needed new clothes, since a trailer in the woods was no place for silk and heels. If a trip to the mall got her away from that drunken ogre, so much the better.
* * *
Stacie sat outside the curtained dressing room on a bench. “I have to say, this is possibly the most unusual second date I’ve ever had on SappHere.”
Cate stepped out to model skinny jeans in indigo with a slim-fit yellow shirt. “Is this me?”
“Hell, yeah.” It pleased her that Cate hadn’t gone for the embroidered pockets and floral tops. A woman that pretty didn’t need excessive decorations.
They returned to the racks, where Cate selected the same jeans in black, green and faded blue along with several similar shirts in a variety of colors. “I hate shopping, especially when I need something.”
“And that begs the question…”
“Don’t even get me started. Let’s go have a drink.” Something was clearly bothering her.
Stacie’s day had been trying as well. By late afternoon she’d been back at the sheriff’s office filing a report with one of her volunteers, who had discovered four slashed tires and a cracked windshield on her car after collecting signatures against the Caliber Pipeline at a supermarket. Starting tomorrow, they’d do drop-offs and pick-ups instead of leaving their vehicles unguarded. She had rented a car so Marty could drive her Prius to Bemidji with the water samples.
They found two barstools at Boomer’s, a bar and grill beside the mall that was decorated with license plates from all over the country. As they sipped coffee with shots of Kahlúa, she expected to see Cate’s mood improve, but it didn’t.
“You want to talk about it?”
“Just a tough day at work. They brought in this new guy, and besides being an asshole, he’s been hitting on me all day.”
“Hostile work environment. Look it up. It’s against the law.”
Cate shook her head dismissively. “I know all that, but he’s not an employee. He’s a subcontractor and he’s been given a lot of authority.”
“It’s still against the law.” That explained her sudden interest in dressing down, though she probably had no idea the jeans made her look even sexier. “Does he know you’re gay?”
“My company does, but like I said, he’s a subcontractor. I have a feeling that would only make it worse. What I need is a way to shut him down without putting my job in jeopardy.”
Stacie felt a wave of righteous anger, the same sort that welled up against polluters and profiteers who took advantage of the powerless. “What you need tonight is to relax. I know that may sound condescending, but it’s all I have to offer. If you’ll let me help, you can wake up tomorrow feeling like your own boss.” She slid two bills under her half-full shot glass. “And you can start tonight by simply saying yes or no.”
* * *
Cathryn checked her rearview mirror for the small sedan as she pulled into the hotel complex. Marlene drove on by as planned, intent on returning after several minutes, a precaution by Cathryn to keep her co-workers from knowing she was entertaining a visitor. It was nauseating to imagine Karl Depew salivating over a twisted fantasy with his nasty scotch breath and choking cologne.
There were risks in bringing a virtual stranger to a hotel where she’d be staying for a while, but they had little choice since Marlene was staying with friends. She never brought new dates to her townhouse in Houston, preferring to meet up with women whose profiles indicated they were from out of town. A sterile hotel room severed their connection when they checked out.
SappHere gave its users several avenues for anonymity, but by tapping credit cards every month, it knew its customers’ true identities in case there were complaints. Her main concern—and probably everyone else’s too—wasn’t her personal security. She worried most about hooking up with someone, deciding they weren’t a good match and then not being able to shake her. She seriously doubted that would be the case with Marlene, but even if it was, she had the lux
ury of knowing she wouldn’t be in Minnesota for long.
She was pleased to find the parking lot filled with cars but not people. Depew was probably passed out and his security team catching up on their sleep after pulling an all-nighter. Nonetheless she’d already insisted Marlene leave before morning to avoid being seen.
Marlene said she understood. Like Cathryn, she had no trouble sloughing off questions about a late night, but that didn’t mean she was an open book. Her friends respected her privacy, she said, and knew not to pry.
Cathryn spent her few minutes alone freshening up. She was calming herself with deep breathing when knuckles rapped softly at her door. “Finally, someone who knows the proper way to knock.”
Her eyes hurriedly swept the parking lot as she ushered Marlene inside. With a shudder, she realized her libido had outmaneuvered her common sense. It would be a disaster if Marlene were discovered in her room and gossip traveled up the corporate chain to Hoss Bower or any of the officers. In the wake of their sexual harassment suit, they were hypersensitive and would question her judgment about bringing home a woman she’d just met.
“Look, Marlene…I think I’ve made a mistake about having you come here.”
“Okay, it’s no problem. But can I ask why?”
“I just got paranoid all of a sudden about somebody seeing us.”
Marlene chuckled and shook her head. “Guess we should have gone to a motel. Oh, wait. We did.”
The sound of footsteps on the walkway outside and men laughing heightened Cathryn’s fears.
“Looks like I’m going to have to stick around for a while,” Marlene said. “If it makes you feel better, I parked around back by the Dumpster and didn’t see a soul on my way in here.”
That was reassuring. It was clear the guys were still up and around doing who knows what, and there was no way Marlene could leave now.
“As for this being a mistake,” Marlene went on, “I distinctly remember that we came here so you could relax. I can see you’re wound up and that can’t be good for you. Let’s just turn out all the lights and sit on the couch.”
Cathryn appreciated the concern, not only for her state of agitation but also for her predicament. Another woman might have stormed out in frustration, not caring about the consequences. With Marlene’s help, passersby would think she’d gone to bed.
“You want a glass of wine or something? I have some chardonnay in the fridge.”
“Nah, half a shot of Kahlúa should do me. I doubt the sheriff’s department around here has enough to keep them busy. They probably pull over everybody who’s out driving after midnight just out of sheer boredom.” She sat at the end of the couch and patted the space next to her. “Come put your head in my lap.”
Tentative at first, Cathryn felt the tension start to leave her body the moment Marlene’s hands wound through her hair to massage the back of her neck.
“Now here’s our cover story if you need it,” Marlene said, her voice low and even in keeping with her soothing demeanor. “I’m an old friend. We met in college at…”
“The University of Texas.”
“I was in St. Paul visiting friends and learned you were in Duluth on business. Since we don’t get many chances to see each other, I drove up so we could spend some time together. Does that work for you?”
“Mmm…perfectly.” In fact, it worked so well Cathryn realized she could even pass her off as an old girlfriend, which would dispel the stigma over picking up a stranger. “I like that scenario quite a bit.”
While one of Marlene’s hands kneaded the knotted mass of muscles at the base of her skull, the other trailed slowly across her collarbone and down to her chest.
“And I like what you’re doing too.”
“Shush and let me relax you.”
She concentrated on Marlene’s fingertip massage, paying special attention to those moments her fingers wandered into the hollow of her breasts.
“If I do anything that makes you tense, just put your hand on mine and I’ll stop. It’s all about making you feel good.”
Marlene released her buttons one by one and slid her hand across every inch of her torso except her breasts. They absolutely ached for attention, so much that Cathryn reached beneath herself and unhooked her bra.
“Very soft,” Marlene murmured, tenderly stroking the outside of her breasts with the back of her fingers. “I bet you could relax even more if we got some of these clothes out of the way.”
Cathryn discarded her shirt and bra, and returned to Marlene’s lap. The comfort of darkness emboldened her to offer up her body.
Marlene took her sweet time, stroking and kneading, pinching and tugging, until Cathryn was ready to scream.
“Try to relax. Let it come to you. I promise I won’t leave you like this.”
She stilled her rolling body and focused again on Marlene’s fingertips as they methodically painted a trail of goose bumps, which she then calmed with a warm, flattened palm. It was only when Cathryn completely stilled that she felt those fingers work the snap and zipper on her pants, and then slide inside to cup her warmth through her satin thong. For a moment she was self-conscious of how wet she was but then Marlene moaned her approval. It was all she could do not to thrust herself upward.
At Marlene’s urging, she kicked off the rest of her clothes and relaxed again under the tantalizing onslaught, opening her legs to signal her want.
Marlene soon finished her scintillating ritual, apparently satisfied she was ready. Her hand swept through the slickness, catching her hypersensitive pearl with each upward stroke.
Cathryn fought the instinct to tighten her hips and force herself to come, placing all her faith in Marlene’s promise not to leave her there. But when her climax started deep inside, she feared it might flee without help and arched upward to prolong the sensation.
“That’s it. You can let it go now.”
Reading perfectly the instant she peaked, Marlene lowered her fingers to a less sensitive spot, but continued applying pressure until Cathryn could stand it no more and covered her hand.
After a minute of rest to catch her breath and allow the pulsing to wane, she stood and pulled Marlene toward the bedroom. “I’ve just noticed only one of us is naked.”
Chapter Five
The storefront had display windows on each side of the front door, perfect for posters and photos that would catch the eye of passersby. CLEAN had plenty of visual proof the spills in Michigan, Arkansas and Wyoming were devastating, but none yet on Lake Bunyan. Not that they’d post them, since photos of the spoiled lake would alert Nations Oil about how close they were to the spill. It was too soon to do that.
A telephone company technician had already wired their new office space for a dozen landlines, and carpenters worked to assemble the last row of phone carrels where the activists could work. Both the store and equipment were rented at premium rates for thirty days with an option for thirty more.
“Great space, Stacie,” Jenn said. “And a break room in the back. Think we can afford a refrigerator too? It saves us a lot on eating out.”
“Sure. Find one and have it delivered. And a coffeemaker too.” It was vital they get their phone campaign up and running. Matt Stevenson had shared his list of Democratic voters in the district, since after the local college students, Democrats and members of the Green Party were CLEAN’s most likely supporters, and there were lots of them around Duluth and Bunyan County. “How are we doing on numbers?”
“Not bad for just four days. Matt was right about the people. Everyone’s really friendly, and they’re responding well to our information. I already had to order more brochures.”
Volunteers were claiming the carrels as soon as the carpenters got them assembled, and within minutes they started dialing through their lists to invite people to CLEAN’s rally next week in Chester Park. Thanks to news coverage of the spill, most people were aware of the incident.
John Mauney waved her over to his corner. “Hey, Stacie, I
just talked to a guy who said he read Ethan’s story this morning about all the harassment, and it made him really mad. He runs an auto-body shop and offered to fix Heather’s broken windshield for free.”
“Awesome! Tell him we’re saving his whole family front row seats for the band next week.” That was exactly the reaction she was hoping for from Ethan’s story, which had been picked up on the wire last night by the state’s major newspapers. People needed to see how far Big Oil was willing to go to get its way.
Jenn worked with one of the volunteers to erect a pair of partitions that effectively walled off an area for a private office. Extra brochures and sign-making materials were stacked in one corner behind a worktable that would serve as her desk. She handed Stacie a key. “No doors on our office, but here’s the other key to the file cabinet. I’ll keep our petitions and local volunteer lists locked up, and if we have to run out during the day we can keep our laptops in here too.”
Their electronics were password-protected, but for added security they kept their donor list in a secure cloud file. No one but she and Jenn had access.
“Where’s Marty?”
“Cleaning out the break room. I like being tough and independent, but it’s really nice to have a guy around who’ll pick up dead bugs.”
“Good to know he’s making himself useful.” Though she said it tongue-in-cheek, she’d noticed Marty hanging back the day before when they were gathering signatures at the mall for their petition to stop the Caliber Pipeline, and it also was apparent he had no interest in working the phones. He was helpful when it came to heavy lifting and running errands, but Stacie now considered him only a tepid activist for their cause.
His lack of enthusiasm for CLEAN worried her for other reasons. If his heart wasn’t in what they were doing, he might someday grow impatient at having Jenn run off every time they had an oil spill or protest. As much as Stacie needed Jenn—and that would be even more if they ramped up their activities—she couldn’t ask her to give up a life with someone she loved.
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