by Scott, Riley
Natalie smiled a wicked grin. The world had definitely changed Natalie for the worst.
“Oh, I don’t doubt that you understand precisely what I’m saying. John said you had a staff member named Josephine—Jo—when he and I talked on the phone the other night. He said she was a preacher’s daughter in her twenties. Said he had a hunch there was something going on between the two of you. And whether or not it’s true, it would make one juicy story, wouldn’t it?”
“He has no idea what the hell he’s saying!” Madeline’s anger and fear collided. How could he know anything?
As if reading her mind, Natalie answered, “Your reaction told me all I needed to know.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I hoped there might still be something…but I guess I’m not young enough for you now. Maybe I wasn’t just a fling after all—an ‘experiment’ is what you called it when you left. Perhaps you are into women after all, and it might be that I was never good enough for you. That had to have been why you always paraded around—with all of the things I could never have—and didn’t stick around to fight for us when I had one night of bad decisions. It doesn’t matter, though. It never really did. And John wasn’t interesting enough, just like I wasn’t. At least that’s what he told me,” she said, turning on her heels.
“Neither of you knows what you’re talking about,” Madeline said, hoping Natalie didn’t notice the quiver in her voice.
“Let’s let the press decide for themselves who they want to believe then,” Natalie shouted, slamming the door in Madeline’s face as she left.
Jo emerged from the bathroom, wide-eyed. Swallowing deeply, she took Madeline in her arms.
“What do we do now?” Madeline asked, shaken from the whole ordeal.
Jo stroked Madeline’s hair. “We come clean—with the senior staff at least. Maybe the whole office. We can’t hide out here forever. Not if she’s going to be out spreading rumors and prompting more questioning.”
“How did John know?” Madeline asked.
“I don’t know,” Jo answered, shaken by the same mystery.
Madeline’s brow furrowed until she hung her head. “The parking garage where we first kissed,” she said. “The one we hid in when the press was chasing us. It didn’t hit me until just now, but it was the parking garage at his office complex. Maybe he—or someone else—saw something. Or maybe he’s just out to cause some trouble and picked up on the tension between us.”
“All the more reason to come clean,” Jo said, squeezing her hand.
Madeline wanted to argue, but the words just wouldn’t come. Jo was right. With a ticking bomb like Natalie around, they couldn’t just go back into their world of sweet oblivion.
* * *
Natalie seethed as she sat in the parking lot. How dare she talk to her that way?
Madeline hadn’t been wrong about some of the things she had said. But she hadn’t even given Natalie a chance to explain. There had been no softness, no chance of forgiveness.
John must have been right about the new girlfriend. She must have been the one who answered when she called that night. After Natalie had hung up, she realized that though the person on the other end of the line had sounded shaken when she gave her name, as Madeline might have been, it hadn’t sounded like Madeline. She figured out she had the wrong number when it went to voice mail. That’s where she had gotten Jo’s name. When she’d asked John he told her that the girl was a member of the staff. He had also triumphantly—as if privy to secret information—let on that Jo was the girl who’d been with Madeline when the press cornered her at the house, the one who’d cut off their inquiries and whisked her away to safety.
Natalie had not planned on broaching the subject, but when things had headed south, she figured she had nothing to lose. The flicker of fear and shock that had passed over Maddie’s face when she mentioned Jo’s name had sealed the deal. There definitely was a new girl in Madeline Stratton’s life, and clearly Madeline did not want Natalie to interfere with that budding relationship any more than she wanted to accept her apologies.
So be it, Natalie thought. She’ll regret this.
There was nothing that Natalie hated more than rejection. She had gone to Madeline’s room and laid her heart bare, only to have it trampled on, and now she was only seeing red. Nothing had changed. Madeline was still as unforgiving as ever. She would pay for it—this time at least.
She fumbled with her cell phone, intending to call John, when she noticed the changing shadows from the third window on the top floor—Madeline’s room. There were two figures now where she and Madeline had stood. In the dim light, she could only make out the fact that both shapes were female and one was holding the other in her arms.
“Bitch,” Natalie muttered under her breath, wondering why they didn’t even have the decency to close the curtains.
The girl had been there the whole time. She screamed in anger, put the car in reverse and sped away, phoning John as she drove. When he answered, she didn’t even offer him a greeting.
“That bitch of a wife you have didn’t even give me the time of day,” she ranted. “And she’s got her new little girlfriend there with her at her hotel.”
“What did you expect, Natalie?” John asked.
What an asshole. Why was he choosing now to be reasonable?
“Fuck you, John. You know what? I shouldn’t have even bothered calling you. I’ve got other things to take care of.” She spewed her words like venom.
“Don’t do anything stupid. We had an agreement, remember?” John warned.
“Fuck you and our agreement. I don’t give a damn about the money. I already told you that. I wanted Maddie, wanted to talk with her and resolve this whole damn thing. She wouldn’t listen, though, because that Jo girl has her under her thumb. I’m going to make both of them pay.”
She clicked the phone off, plotting what to do next. She’d had no intention of going public earlier in the evening, but after how she had been treated, she saw no need to cut Maddie a break. Mayor Stratton was going to go down in flames and very publicly.
Her little girlfriend would too. A Google search earlier in the day had revealed most of what she needed to know about Jo Carson. She was, in fact, a preacher’s daughter. And not just any preacher—but the high and mighty Michael Carson, a man who regularly condemned the same-sex lifestyle from the pulpit, calling it one of the evils of this world. He would be pretty surprised to hear that his daughter liked to eat pussy and that Madeline Stratton did as well. The rest of the state—hell, the whole country—would be surprised to hear that too.
Using the Google search on her phone, she found the number for Michael Carson’s church office. Unfortunately, his home number was not listed, but a call to the church could be equally dramatic and effective, she decided. She tapped the number into her cell phone and saved it. She would give Michael a call shortly, but she had something to do first.
Pulling to the side of the road, she put her car in park. This could not wait even another minute. It had to happen tonight! Before Madeline could figure out some way to talk her way out of it.
She reached into her purse. All of the news stations had given her business cards in case she had anything to add to her story, and now she did. She fished out the first business card she could find. The name on the card was Isaac Williams with Channel 4 News.
Here goes nothing, she thought, dialing the number.
“Channel 4, this is Isaac.” His voice came across the line, obviously tired.
“Hi, Isaac. I’m not sure if you remember me, but this is Natalie Longworth.”
His voice noticeably perked up. “Of course I remember you, Natalie. What can I do for you?”
* * *
Ever since his discussion with Jacquelyn earlier in the day, Isaac had been waiting to hear about the story she thought was coming his way. He felt now like a dog that had been handed a bone. He wanted to call her and let her know, but he could not just give this information away.
He had the m
istress in John Stratton’s affair on record saying that she had known Mayor Stratton for years. That they had been old college roommates—and lovers. There was a slew of other information as well, including an allegation of a relationship with a staffer. Apparently, if Natalie was correct, Madeline Stratton was sleeping with the daughter of mega-church pastor, Michael Carson.
The story was huge—if true. Michael Carson had written books, had a live telecast of each Sunday’s sermon. He was a huge antigay activist—as was Madeline Stratton, supposedly.
His head was swimming. He would let Jacquelyn know he had the information, but not until he confirmed it—and notified his boss. This was huge, so huge that he had personally offered Natalie Longworth a thousand bucks to keep her mouth shut when he learned that she hadn’t called any of the other stations yet.
If she kept her word, he would call Jacquelyn tomorrow morning and pay Natalie the money.
An hour later, he had all the information he needed to make a news story. Old school records from Madeline’s college days confirmed that she had roomed with a girl named Natalie Longworth. How in the world had the press missed this information the first time around? Simple. Because they had all been looking to the mayor as the real story, not the other woman. Would Madeline Stratton crack under the pressure? Would she offer an on-camera interview? Could they get more of the story of the woman shattered by her husband’s infidelity?
The details of Natalie’s past had not been closely examined because they hadn’t been relevant to the story that the media wanted to tell. Now, though, he had a story that everyone in the state would buzz about for days. He had secured the necessary verification for the main part of the story. They had enough to do an on-camera interview that covered the rest—as long as he remembered to throw in words like “allegedly.”
He called Natalie, who agreed to come to the studio right away for the interview. They would tape and edit it tonight and air it first thing in the morning, as people dressed for the day.
Landing a story this big had resulted in his boss not only congratulating him but also promising him that he was safe in his job for a while. For the first time in ages, Isaac felt like he could breathe. He suppressed the nagging in his gut that told him to call Jacquelyn. They needed to get the footage first. Once he had that, he would phone her.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Jacquelyn had been considering making a trip to Jo’s apartment for the past hour. While she wasn’t sure where they were, she figured it was a safe bet. If nothing else, maybe she could catch Jo alone and confront her—which would be safer than facing Madeline with the allegations she had in her arsenal.
What would she say? She wanted to have something planned, not just show up and accuse them of sleeping together. That would only seal her fate as the first to be fired whenever the shit started hitting the fan.
Her phone rang, interrupting her thoughts.
It was Ian. He was probably calling to see if she had heard anything. She wanted to ignore his call. Instead she answered it.
“Hey, Ian,” she said.
“I think we might be about to get the answer to our question,” he said, forgoing a greeting.
“What are you talking about?”
“I just got off the phone with Jo. She and Madeline want to meet with me. I told her that I would, but that I was bringing the rest of the senior staff with me.”
“Did she agree to that?”
“Actually, she said that would probably be best. She seemed upset, but she said this needed to happen tonight—as soon as possible.”
“Great,” Jacquelyn replied. “Whatever is happening, we need to get to the bottom of it as quickly as we can. I’m in for the meeting. What time? Where? And have you let Gabe know? He will want to be there as well.”
“Gabe knows. He will be there. We’re all meeting at the office. Come as soon as possible. I think Jo and Madeline are already there,” Ian said.
There was a pause. “Be prepared, Jacquelyn. I am pretty sure they’re not calling us in for a late night meeting to give us good news.”
She knew it could not be good news, but she appreciated his warning anyway.
“Thanks, Ian,” she said. Hanging up, she tried to prepare herself. She was pretty certain, though, that she knew why they had called the meeting. It was confession time.
* * *
They had arrived before anyone else. Jo wanted to be the first to the office, wanted to get settled in the conference room and establish some type of normalcy. She flipped on the lights and held the door open for Madeline. Her face was as white as a sheet, and more than anything, Jo wanted to comfort her.
What they were about to do would change the future irrevocably for the both of them, but it had to be done. Natalie was volatile and unpredictable, but she had threatened to go to the media twice now, and this time she had seemed very determined.
There was not a doubt in Jo’s mind that her face and Madeline’s would be splashed about the news tomorrow morning. It was something she had feared from the very beginning of her feelings for Madeline, something she had known was a possibility the moment they slept together.
Looking at Madeline, she wanted her to know one thing. She squeezed her hand. “It has been worth every minute,” she said, a single tear running down her cheek.
She had no idea why she was crying. Since Natalie had left, she had tried to be the strong one, for Madeline’s sake, but now she felt as though she might crack.
Confession had never been her strong suit. She knew what everyone was going to say: She and Madeline had put everyone’s career on the line—and together they had jeopardized all of the changes that Madeline had worked so hard to implement. Chances were good that none of the anti-corruption measures would matter at all once it was revealed that the mayor had been sleeping with a staff member. It would have all been for nothing.
That was true, but she meant what she had said. It had been worth every minute, and she would do it all over again. Selfishly, she realized that finding something meaningful in Madeline’s arms had been worth everything it would cost.
Madeline squeezed Jo’s hand in return. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out.
“It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything. I can tell them what has happened,” Jo reassured her.
Madeline swallowed hard. “Thank you.”
“I’m sorry,” Jo whispered, afraid it might be the last time she had the opportunity to speak the words.
“Me too,” Madeline said in reply.
Ian came in first. As he opened the door, Jo let go of Madeline’s hand. It was too late. He had seen it, and his tightlipped look left no doubt that he understood the reason for their hand-holding.
“As you were,” he said crisply and took his seat at the front of the table.
Jo dropped her eyes. She had never felt particularly guilty about being a lesbian—never thought it was a wicked, despicable thing, like her parents did. It was who she was, even if she hadn’t lived out and proud. Now, however, she felt as though she should feel ashamed—though more for the sake of whom she had slept with and what she had done. The look Ian had given her said he disapproved—not of her lifestyle, perhaps, but of her actions. After all, she had slept with her boss—a married woman, even if that marriage was over when it happened and she had resigned as soon as was practical in order to mitigate the situation. Still, it was a reprehensible action, and she knew it.
She felt the heat rise to her cheeks. Never before had she shared details of her sexual history with anyone with whom she worked, and she was about to do just that—and come out of the closet—all in one swift move.
As she waited for the others to arrive so they could get this over with, she thought back to all the articles she had read on coming out of the closet. They had all said it was the most freeing experience in the world. Jo didn’t feel free. She felt like she was in a living hell. It was like that dream where you showed up to high school naked, except now,
not only was she going to be laid bare and naked in front of her co-workers, she was possibly ruining the careers of people she cared about. Her heart pounding, she forced herself to look Ian in the eye.
He just shook his head and looked away from her.
Gabe entered the room, a look of disbelief on his face. He took off his coat and set it on the back of the chair, taking care not to make eye contact with Jo as he did so.
She felt like screaming. Didn’t she have an ally anywhere? She knew she didn’t deserve one, but she felt hopeless and all alone. She looked at Madeline out of the corner of her eye, noting that she seemed to have checked out. She was sitting still, staring at the ceiling and looking like she thought her life was over. Actually, it was. The life she had known was done. There would be no return to the sense of normalcy she had known before the affair. And while it was possible she’d be allowed to serve out her term, it was more likely that the remainder of her tenure as mayor would be measured in weeks, not months.
Jo forced out a breath, suddenly finding it difficult to fill her lungs. Gabe glanced in her direction and then pointed at his phone. It was a signal they had used regularly during work hours. Gabe had sent her a text message and wanted her to check it.
She pulled her phone out beneath the table and read it.
Why didn’t you tell me?
There was no easy answer. She had never made a practice of telling people. That was the reality of living life in the closet. You didn’t tell, and when people questioned, you lied. Life was easier that way. He should understand that, having a brother who was gay, something he didn’t feel free to talk about in the office. But that hadn’t seemed to click with him just yet.
I’m sorry.
It was the only reply Jo had. She truly was sorry—not for being a lesbian, not even for sleeping with Madeline, if she were to be honest. But she was sorry that it had jeopardized all of their work, all of their jobs. Sorry that it had come to this.
These were talented people, though. They would all go out and find new jobs. They would not be damaged by Jo and Madeline’s actions. They would be known as former Stratton employees, yes. But they could truthfully say they hadn’t known, hadn’t had a part in anything that had happened. Not that she and Madeline had broken any laws, no just ones anyway. Whatever they needed from her, she would give. She would put it in writing and sign in blood if that’s what was needed.