by Lee Winter
“You probably never meant to get involved,” Lauren said softly. “Did you? You didn’t even realize how deep in you were. It was some messy, awful mistake. One that you got so caught up in that it cost you your husband. You probably hated yourself for how unprofessional it all was. I mean, hell, what a lapse. There you were—paid to professionally assassinate the woman you’d accidentally just fallen in love with.”
Loss flitted into Michelle’s eyes. There was no denial.
“Know what I think?” Lauren said, even softer now. “You saw Catherine at the State Fair, and it reminded you of the awful thing you’d done. But you suddenly saw a way to kill two birds with one stone. You pushed Catherine toward the MediCache story to fix things. After all, that’s what you do, isn’t it? You’re a fixer? It was a perfect solution—you’d blow up the data chip scheme, which you hated, and you could give Catherine a national exclusive that was actually true this time—which is what you’d promised her last time. You’d get absolution. All that guilt you endure every day, gone.” Lauren’s laugh was dry. “And the irony is, she turned around and gave that story away to me. Bet you didn’t see that coming.”
Michelle’s eyes narrowed. “Such wild speculation. You can’t possibly know anything I feel.”
“Oh, but that’s where you’re wrong.” Lauren leaned forward. “Because I’ve kissed her, too. It’s not something you soon forget. That passion she has for her job? She shares with her lovers, doesn’t she? She puts everything she has into someone she cares for. So, yes, I think you fell in love with your target, then you broke her in the worst possible way. And it’s probably eaten you alive ever since.”
Michelle’s face became stony. “So, who are you going to tell your interesting theory to?”
Lauren’s eyebrow lifted. “You’re afraid I might tell Catherine?”
“If you truly love her, sharing this ridiculous tale could only harm her more. Wouldn’t you agree that it’s cleanest if she simply hates me?” Michelle’s look was intense.
It wasn’t a bad point. Lauren thought about that as she glanced around the room. No framed photos. No knickknacks or signs of family or loved ones. Her gaze settled on Michelle’s bare ring finger. She looked back at the closed features across from her. The woman was clearly unsettled.
“Is there no one else?” Lauren asked quietly.
Michelle said nothing.
“Has there even been anyone else since her?”
“That is none of your business.” There was heat behind it. Her eyes flashed, telling her the answer.
“I could expose you, you know.” Lauren waved at the room. “Sleeping with a woman just to destroy her is terrible. I could expose what your company does in general. It might not be illegal, the guidance you give your clients, but it’s highly immoral. That’d be nice revenge, wouldn’t it? Me splashing your secrets everywhere as payback for what you did to Catherine. You’d lose everything.”
Her face grew even paler.
“But you know what? I don’t have to ruin you. When I look at you, I see a sad woman who already has lost everything but her pathetic job. Tell me something: was it worth it?”
Michelle scowled at her, eyes flashing. It was the most emotion Lauren had ever seen from her.
“Mmm, that’s what I thought. Sucks to be you.” Lauren shook her head. “My God, you had Catherine Ayers and you threw her away. For what? A CEO job and a nice view? That’s nuts. So I can answer your question for you. It wasn’t worth it. And the worst part is I can see you know it, too.”
The pain in Michelle’s eyes was bordering on uncomfortable to witness. Lauren didn’t want to look at it anymore. She stood and made her exit, hearing Michelle pivot her chair back to face the window to gaze out of her soulless glass tower.
An empty person in an empty office. What a fitting pair.
Chapter 33 –
What Goes Around
Eight Months Later
Catherine checked her watch as she made her way to the White House briefing room. She nodded at the familiar face of the security guard, who didn’t bother to check the laminated credentials that she held up.
“Good to see you again, Ms. Ayers,” he said. “I think you’re a bit late, though. They’re wrapping up.”
“It’s fine, Robert. I’m not here on business today,” she said before slipping into the room.
“And finally,” the White House chief of staff’s voice was droning on, “we want to highlight the arrest of US fugitive Douglas Malcolm Lesser. Mr. Lesser was believed to be hiding out in Saigon, Vietnam, since news broke about him being wanted in connection with creating the SmartPay virus. We’d like to confirm earlier reports that he was arrested in Australia, at 02:30 local time. He is fighting the extradition, claiming he is innocent and targeted for being a whistleblower. We expect him stateside to face charges within the week.”
A sea of hands began to shoot up.
In the second row, third from the right, Lauren raised her hand, too.
The chief of staff scanned the room. “It seems only fair we hear from the reporter whose story sparked Mr. Lesser’s arrest warrant and subsequent manhunt.” He pointed at Lauren.
Catherine smiled from her spot against the wall.
“Lauren King, The Washington Post. Is there any truth to the rumor Lesser was found hiding out in a trailer park in Broome, Western Australia?”
“That is correct.”
“So a spyware scam man on the lam in Vietnam was caught in a trailer in Australia?” Lauren suggested, humor filling her tone. Her eyebrow arched.
The room broke into laughter at the unexpected rhyme. Even the chief of staff’s fixed expression wobbled slightly.
Catherine snorted. The man hadn’t cracked a smile for years.
“Something like that,” he said. “And I can see our newest member of the White House Press Corps intends to be an entertaining presence for us.” He cleared his throat. “All right, that’s it for today. Check your inboxes later. We’ll be sending President Taylor’s schedule for his Asia-Pacific tour by two. See Sue about seat allocations.”
The room broke up. A few reporters turned to Lauren and introduced themselves on the way out, laughing about her unorthodox question.
Catherine made her way over to her. “Quite the icebreaker,” she said, as they dispersed. “My first question in here was some earnest dross about a possible error in the budget. It was important, but no one remembers it.”
“That was my intention,” Lauren said. “Getting noticed. I know I’m only filling in while Max is on leave, and even then it’s only because Lesser story’s getting White House attention, but maybe one day this will be my beat.”
“And you’re off to a good start. Which is why I’m here. Come on, I’m taking you to lunch to celebrate your debut press corps briefing. Hope you don’t mind a little walk.”
“Sure. Lead on.”
They made their way out of the building.
Lauren’s eyes widened when she realized where they were going. “So we’re re-creating history?” she asked. “How romantic.”
“Perish the thought. I just liked the symmetry of it,” Catherine countered, as they entered the gardens and found their old seat in Bartholdi Park. “Huge nymph fountains and all. This is where your story began. Us sitting right here when that ridiculous robot rolled up.”
“Ooh.” Lauren looked around. “Is Antonio’s delivering something tasty today?”
“No.” Catherine reached into her bag and pulled out two sandwiches from bags stamped with Lauren’s favorite eatery. “I thought we’d go back to basics.”
“Leaf Long and Prosper? I love their BLT sandwiches. Plus, hello, Star Trek joke. Thanks.”
Catherine smiled and pushed one over, made to Lauren’s specifications. It contained a lot more B than LT.
Naturally, Lauren dug in hap
pily.
“So tell me,” Catherine asked, as she reached for her own sandwich, “why would Lesser leave Vietnam, which has no extradition treaty, and go somewhere unsafe for him? He had to know the US would demand his return if he bobbed up somewhere like Australia?”
Lauren shrugged. “I guess even smart bastards like him get bored in exile and need a vacation. But you know what this means? We did it! They’re all facing justice now.”
“Except for Michelle. She never paid for anything.”
Lauren looked at her wife and felt a stab of shame. Damn. She really should have talked to her about this before now. She’d kept putting it off, thinking Michelle had been right all along—consigning herself to the role of clean-cut villain was less messy and would make it easier for Catherine to put the memory behind her.
“All right, what is it?” Catherine asked. “You suddenly look guilty as hell.”
“Would it help if you thought Michelle felt bad about what she did to you?” Lauren asked, trying to sound light. “Would it improve your life, if, for instance, you’d found out she had cared about you?”
“She didn’t. She made that very clear.”
“Her ex-husband thought she did.”
“Alberto wanted reasons to hate her.”
“Sure, but let’s just say you knew for a fact that you mattered to her and it wasn’t all a scam. Would that improve your life?”
Catherine thought about that. “Yes. I think a little bit.”
Lauren took a deep breath. She could see the rapidly fluttering pulse at Catherine’s neck. Oh hell. She really shouldn’t have kept this secret. She’d given Catherine such a hard time for deciding things for Lauren. How was what she’d done any better these past months?
“You know how I told you I went to the Fixers for dirt on Lesser, and Michelle turned out to be the CEO?” Lauren said.
“Yes.”
“We didn’t just discuss Lesser.”
Catherine stared at her and then put down her sandwich. “Oh.” Her voice turned chilly.
“I worked out she has feelings for you. Both then and now.”
Skepticism filled Catherine’s eyes. “Unlikely.”
“She admitted that seducing you wasn’t some scheme to get to you. It was an accident. She didn’t even know you were gay until you kissed her.”
Catherine’s gaze bored into her.
“And you’re wrong—she didn’t get off scot-free,” Lauren continued. “She lost her husband. She lost you. I don’t think she has anyone in her life, now or since. She’s…sad. Empty. And yes, that’s all on her, her bad choices. And I also believe, in part, she gave you that story to try and make amends. So, do you get how amazing you have to be to make someone doing a hit on you fall for you so hard that she forgets herself? Don’t you see? You weren’t the fool. If anything, she was.”
“You forget how she was to me in Iowa.” Catherine’s words were rasped out. “She didn’t hide her disdain. Her words were cruel.”
“Yes, they were. Exactly as she intended. She thought if she was hurtful, you’d hate her and move on. But Catherine, Michelle was never indifferent to you. When she betrayed you, she broke inside, too. But the karmic kick of it all is, I think she’s still broken, while you’ve gone on to have an awesome life.”
The anger in Catherine’s eyes that was always there whenever her past came up seemed to fade. She nudged her sandwich around on its flattened paper bag.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” Lauren said. “I thought it’d help not having her messing up your head again. It was wrong. I should have.”
Looking up, Catherine said quietly, “Yes, you should have. But I also know why you didn’t. I’m…glad you told me now. This will take a bit of processing, I think.”
Her shoulders eased a little. Then a little more.
“You know,” Lauren said, “for the first time since I’ve known you, you look completely relaxed.”
“That’s not true. I think I’ve been slowly relaxing ever since I met you. There’s just something about you that lowers all my defenses. I think you may have me under some sort of spell so I’ll put up with your awful tractor cap, that beast of a car that you drive way too fast, and your crazy Iowan family.”
“Oh, please, you love all of that stuff. I know you had fun at Christmas, no matter how much you protest otherwise. You got that huffy cat all over you again, Meemaw let you help her cook, and John and Lucas were off driving around Route 66, finding themselves or whatever the hell they’re up to, so you didn’t have to put up with my most annoying brother.”
Catherine’s lips curled. “That was a decided plus.”
“You also got to watch the hilarious spectacle of Tad attempting softball—badly. And the excitement of dodging Josh while he was trying to take photos of you for his Facebook page. What’d he tag those pics of you? ‘Hashtag unironicallyinIowa?’”
“Pure defamation. Especially the ‘cornfedchic’ hashtag. I have no idea what Thadeus sees in that boy.” The softness in her tone gave her away, though.
“The same thing you see in me.” Lauren elbowed her. “We remind you you’re alive. And besides, we’re far more fun than an Ayers family gathering.”
“That you are. I’m grateful you offered Tad somewhere to escape to so he could avoid a toxic family Christmas.”
“Is it still bad?”
“I don’t even know where to start. Tad’s father’s having some sort of midlife crisis. And my father’s trying to settle out of court over the harassment claims, and he’s got the DA tied up in legal knots over MediCache. Meanwhile, Phoebe is running around with her hair on fire, trying to claim everything is a setup and no one is guilty. Of anything. At all.”
“Oh, hell. Well, maybe don’t focus on that. Just focus on you. On how everything is working out for you these days.”
Catherine smiled. “It’s working out for you, too. At least for a month, you’re finally where you’ve always wanted to be.”
“In the White House press corps.” Lauren beamed. “Which makes me your direct rival.” She slid her an impish look. “Do you love it that we’re in the trenches together again? Or is it the rivals bit you like most?”
“What an interesting question.” Eyes bright with amusement, Catherine added, “I’m sure that’s where we came in.”
“Yeah, we’re back where it all began—circling each other. Only with more politics now.”
“And fewer goats.” Catherine smirked.
“Hey! Come on, your goat story on me was such crap. Stop milking it.”
“Goat puns, King?” Catherine teased. “Whatever do you do for an encore?” She leaned over and curled a loose hair around Lauren’s ear. “Truthfully? I love that we’re on the same beat again. I can’t imagine anything better than taking you on again.”
“Me, either.” Lauren quirked her eyebrows. “But remember, I won’t go so easy on you this time.”
Catherine’s eyes lit up. “I expect nothing less. In fact”—she lowered her voice to a pleased murmur—“I really can’t wait. Ayers and King, matching wits again.”
“King and Ayers.” Lauren gave her a playful look. “Watch out, world.”
About Lee Winter
Lee Winter is an award-winning veteran newspaper journalist who has lived in almost every Australian state, covering courts, crime, news, features and humour writing. Now a full-time author and part-time editor, Lee is also a 2015 and 2016 Lambda Literary Award finalist and has won several Golden Crown Literary Awards. She lives in Western Australia with her long-time girlfriend, where she spends much time ruminating on her garden, US politics, and shiny, new gadgets.
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Website: www.leewinterauthor.com
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