Twitter Girl

by Nic Tatano

  “Cassidy?”

  “Uh, yeah, James. Listen, you need to know something about me. I will not be used in this campaign. You wanna parade me around as his girlfriend, fine, but you do not have the right to control my personal life because of some poll. Are we clear?”

  “Sure, Cassidy. I’m sorry you found out about it.”

  “Don’t let it happen again.”

  I slam down the phone.

  I’d give Will a piece of my mind as well, but he’s not here.

  And I’m beginning to think Sam was right again.

  ***

  “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you without an appetite.”

  Ripley gives me a soulful look as I nibble at my sandwich while keeping an eye on Tyler. “I’m just sick about this. And it’s my fault.”

  “How the hell is it your fault?”

  “I was the one who invited him to dinner. He wanted to take a cab but I made us take the subway. If I had just listened to him—”

  I feel my eyes well up as I bite my lower lip. Ripley comes over and starts rubbing my shoulders. “And if you hadn’t taken the subway, a little girl would be dead. God needed you to be there.”

  “Stop using logic on me.”

  “Things happen for a reason, Cassidy. I know Tyler’s going to be all right. Have you watched TV today?”

  “No.”

  “You should see the newscasts. The whole city is praying for their newest hero to wake up. They had a special vigil at Saint Pat’s. God’s got a whole lot of people bending his ear. He wouldn’t take Tyler away from us. Or away from you.”

  “I guess.”

  “So, was Will upset that you’re not going on the trip?”

  I shrug. “If he showed up I’d ask him.”

  She furrows her brow. “You’re kidding me… he hasn’t been by?”

  I shake my head. “Nope. Apparently he’s too busy at ten thousand dollar a plate fundraisers. Everyone else at the campaign managed to visit, every single person, even the interns. All I got was a voice mail message from Will. Tried to call him back to tell him to get his ass down here but no luck. And that’s not the worst part.”

  “What?”

  I shake my head, still in disbelief. “He’s the one who wanted to do the poll on whether we should have sex before marriage.”

  She sits up straight as her eyes widen. “Excuse me? He was the one?”

  “Yep. Hard to believe, huh?”

  “Have you talked to him about it?”

  “No. And I’ll do that face to face.”

  “Geez, Cassidy, that’s really insensitive of him, don’t you think?”

  “At this point I don’t know what to think.”

  She folds her arms. “Well, I do, but I’m sure you don’t wanna hear it.”

  “Not now, Ripley. My emotions have too much on their plate right now. And right now Tyler’s the only one I’m thinking about.”

  There are still no cots available, and even if there were I doubt I’d sleep in one. One of the doctors said it’s important for people in comas to have audio and physical stimulation, so I’ve been talking to him all day and holding his hand. Reading all the great newspaper stories about him. Hoping he can hear me, follow my voice. Can feel my touch and let me lead him out of the darkness.

  As I crawl into bed next to him, I realize I lied to Ripley.

  Tyler’s not the only one I’m thinking about.

  As I fall asleep, I’m wondering who the hell Will Becker really is.

  ***

  “I must be dreaming. There’s a smoking hot redhead in my bed.”

  My eyes flicker open and I see Tyler looking at me, sleepy eyes open about halfway. “Oh my God, you’re awake!”

  “So this isn’t a dream?”

  I quickly wrap my arms around him and give him a strong hug. “God, Tyler, I thought I’d lost you.”

  “Water.”

  “Huh?”

  “Water. Now. I’m dying of thirst.”

  “Right.” I grab the pitcher that is sitting on the table next to the bed, pour him a glass and hand it to him. He starts to guzzle it but I grab his hand. “Take your time.”

  He slows down, drains the glass, then holds it out. “More.”

  “Sure.” I refill it and he takes a few more sips.

  “What the hell happened?”

  “When the transit cop pulled you off the tracks you hit your head on a pole and it knocked you out. You’ve been in a coma.”

  “A coma? How long?”

  “Two days. How are you feeling?”

  “A little dizzy and very hungry.”

  “Hang on, let me go get a doctor.” I lean forward and kiss him on top of the head. “Great to have you back, Tyler.”

  ***

  @Twitter Girl

  New York’s subway superhero Tyler Garrity is awake! Thanks for your prayers but keep ’em coming! He’ll be home in a few days!

  Tyler props himself up with two pillows. “So, let me get this straight. I have to be here two more days for observation, so you’re going to stay here and observe me?”

  “Yep. Gonna watch you like a cranky sex-starved nun in Catholic school.”

  “Are there any other kind?”

  “Not really.”

  “You should really catch up with the campaign. Viper will arrange a plane—”

  “Already told Frank I’m not going anywhere till you get discharged. He’s okay with it. I can do my Twitter Girl thing from here if I feel like it, and right now I feel like observing you.”

  “Becker looks better with you at his side.”

  The thought actually makes me cringe. “Right now you need me at your side. You gonna push the nurse’s call button if you slip back into a coma? No, of course not. Because, duh, you’ll be unconscious. So shut up and commence being observed.” I do that I’m watching you thing cops on TV do with their fingers.

  “Yes, Nurse Ratched.”

  “Well, I can tell from that comment you’re getting better.”

  “So what’s for dinner? If it’s hospital food, just shoot me now.”

  “Hell no. You’ll never get well eating that cardboard mystery meat. I put in an order for shrimp scampi pizza.”

  “You’re going out to Staten Island to get me a pizza?”

  “They’re bringing it here. Tyler, you’re like a real life Batman to this city. People want to do things for you. The guys at the pizza place were thrilled when I called and told them who it was for.”

  A gentle tap on the door grabs our attention. I figure it’s the pizza but turn and see the little girl Tyler saved along with her mom.

  “We heard you were up,” says the mother, a slender, thirtyish brunette who leads her daughter over to the bed. “I’m Jeannine Frazier. And this little bundle of trouble is Samantha.”

  “Hi there,” says Tyler.

  Tears roll down the woman’s cheeks and her voice cracks. “I know I can’t thank you enough for saving my daughter’s life. And risking your own.”

  “Doctor says I’ll be fine.”

  “Thank you for saving me,” says the little blonde girl. Which of course, makes everyone’s eyes well up.

  The mother runs her hand over the girl’s head. “It happened so fast. My other daughter got away from me and when I turned to grab her this one fell on the tracks. Thank God you were there. Oh, Samantha has a favor to ask of you. Go ahead, honey.” She pushes her daughter toward Tyler.

  The little girl is carrying one of New York’s tabloids and hands it to Tyler. “Can I have your autograph? Sign your picture for me?”

  “Sure, sweetie.”

  “I’ve got a pen,” I say, as I grab my purse and pull one out. I hand it to Tyler and as I do I see the front page of the paper.

  A photo of me and Tyler. He still unconscious in the hospital bed, me in the chair wearing a torn dress covered with blood, leaning forward with my chin on the mattress, eyes locked on him while holding his hand.

  The headl
ine says it all.

  Vigil for a Hero

  ***

  Tyler is starting to yawn even though it’s only ten o’clock. Despite being in a hospital bed, he’s had a busy day between the visits from media people, friends and family. Sam and Ripley showed up after work and we played cards for an hour.

  President Turner, probably sensing Will Becker had missed a photo op that was an absolute no-brainer, flew up from Washington with the entire White House press corps and told Tyler that he will be invited to the Oval Office when he’s well.

  Turner shook his hand while posing for pictures and called him “a real American hero.”

  Governor Schilling, seeing this, also dropped by with a basket of goodies from the Garden State which included a huge box of delicious salt water taffy. (Okay, so I sampled a few pieces.)

  The Mayor of New York visited and told Tyler he would be getting the key to the city and have a day in his honor. Tyler’s brother Sean brought a bunch of his teammates, while a few of the New York Giants dropped by with an autographed football.

  Everyone but Will Becker.

  That photo on the cover of the tabloid has gone viral and I have a new nickname. Jackie Kennedy has been replaced with Florence Nightingale.

  Meanwhile, some media people are privately wondering why Will Becker never showed up to visit one of the main guys in his campaign who has known him for years.

  They’re not the only ones.

  But again, Tyler is my priority right now.

  “You look like you’re fading,” I say, sitting on the cot that was finally delivered.

  “Yeah, I’m about ready to crash. And you probably need to sleep in your own bed. Seriously, you can go home. You’ve done too much for me already.”

  “We already discussed this, Tyler. They don’t make rounds as often in the middle of the night and I want to be here just in case.”

  “Well, okay. I do love your company.”

  I grab one of the newspapers with Tyler’s photo on the front page. “Hey, how about a bedtime story?”

  “Huh?”

  “You haven’t read any of these yet. Don’t you wanna know what people are saying about you?”

  He shrugs. “I’ll read them eventually.”

  “Well, let me read one.” I get up and walk toward the bed, then sit on the corner and look at the newspaper. “Once upon a time, there was a very brave, seriously cute guy named Tyler…”

  “That’s not in the paper.”

  “Kidding. Okay, here it is for real.” I open the paper and start to read.

  I close the newspaper and place it on the table next to the bed. “Now, when was the last time someone read you a bedtime story with a happy ending like that?”

  “Thank you, that was really nice. Can I go to sleep now?”

  “Sure. I’ll get the lights.”

  I get up, move to the door and close it almost all the way, then turn out the lights. Moonlight spills into the room through the large window, so I can still see where I’m going. I head into the bathroom and change into a long sleep shirt, then go back to the cot.

  “You sure you’re gonna be able to sleep on that thing?” he asks. “It doesn’t look very comfortable.”

  “I’m not going home, Tyler, so stop asking me or I’ll hit you with a ruler.”

  He smiles at me. “Okay, T.G. Pleasant dreams.”

  “You too.” I lay back on the cot, which is actually very soft. “Wow, it’s a pillow top cot. I didn’t know such things existed.”

  “So it’s comfortable?”

  “Very. Much nicer than what you’re sleeping on.”

  “Yeah, this mattress is kinda hard.”

  I lay on my side facing Tyler and see he is still looking at me. “What?”

  “I’m just really lucky to know someone like you, that’s all. You’re really special to me. And you look like an angel in this light.”

  I get a lump in my throat as he smiles and locks eyes with me for a moment.

  And for a moment… I feel something I’ve never felt and cannot explain.

  He closes his eyes and turns his head to the side.

  I throw back the blanket, get up, walk to the bed, get in, and lay down on my side facing him.

  He opens his eyes. “I thought you had a good mattress,” he says.

  “The cot has a very nice mattress. But I need to be comfortable.” I slide closer and rest my chin on his chest. “And like I said, I need to keep close watch on you.” I place one hand over his heart and look up at him. “I’m nurse Cassidy and I’ll be monitoring your heartbeat this evening. Think of me as a human EKG machine. Goodnight, superhero.”

  Our eyes connect again in the moonlight for a moment, then I lay my head on his chest.

  Tyler wraps one arm around my shoulders and pulls me close.

  This time I’m not thinking of Will Becker as I fall asleep.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  @TwitterGirl

  Tyler Garrity goes home today! And all is right with the universe…

  After a huge news conference for Tyler in which he works the crowd like a pro, I take him home, then head down to the campaign headquarters. It’s manned by a skeleton crew today, since most of the staff is on the road trip. Frank said there was no point in my flying all the way to California to meet them since everyone would be back soon, but that he needed me to do my Twitter Girl thing during tonight’s debate.

  So I find myself with a lot of free time this afternoon.

  And a lot of questions.

  As my cell rings and I see who’s calling, I’m thinking one of them is about to be answered. “Hi Dale.”

  “Hey, Cassidy. How’s your hero friend?”

  “Just released from the hospital. He’ll be back to normal in no time.”

  “Good to hear. That was an incredible piece of video.”

  “Yeah, no kidding.”

  “But that’s not why I called. My contact found out what the number belongs to. It’s not a business.”

  “I thought those EIN numbers were for businesses.”

  “In most cases they are. In this case, it’s for a private trust.”

  “What, you mean like those things rich people set up for their kids?”

  “Yeah.”

  “So is it something his daughters tap into when they turn twenty-one?”

  “I don’t know what it’s for, Cassidy, because it’s a private trust and all I got was the name. But it doesn’t sound like it is set up for his two girls.”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s called the Brian Fillorio Trust.”

  “Who the hell is Brian Fillorio?”

  “No clue, but I don’t have time to look as Air Hump One is about to take off. Good luck with this, Cassidy.”

  “Thanks so much, Dale, I appreciate it.”

  I end the call and with the afternoon off I put my reporter’s hat back on.

  And it feels damn good.

  ***

  After an Internet search and a visit to the campaign archives, I have no new information. There is no connection between Will Becker and someone named Brian Fillorio. There’s not a single person in the entire country with that name, and only a few people with the surname.

  Sam is busy cooking as I head into the kitchen and give him a big hug.

  “Well, look who finally came home.”

  “I’m fried. Very stressful week.”

  “But at least it had a happy ending.” Sam covers the pot as she turns to me. “I almost hate to ask, but did Becker ever show up?”

  I shake my head and look down. “Nope. Too busy raising money on the west coast. And there’s something else, Sam. Something really bad. He was the one who wanted the poll on whether or not we should have sex.”

  Sam’s face tightens. “Caz, I know you don’t wanna hear it, but that’s a bunch of big red flags.”

  “Yeah, I know. Ripley implied as much.”

  Sam turns his attention back to the stove and stirs the
contents of a small saucepan. “What you did for Tyler was amazing.”

  “Hell, what he did was amazing.”

  “True enough. He get home okay?”

  “Yeah, dropped him off after his news conference and his family is gonna stay with him. I don’t think that guy’s ever gonna have to pay for a drink in a bar for the rest of his life. President Turner came by. The Mayor visited and said he’ll be getting a key to the city.”

  “That’s nice. Tyler’s a great guy.”

  “Yeah, he is. Meanwhile, in a related story, Dale found out the identity of the magic number. It’s not a business, but a private trust for someone named Brian Fillorio.”

  “Who’s that?”

  “Haven’t been able to find out. It’s a real dead end. Can’t even find someone with that name.”

  “That makes no sense,” says Sam.

  And then it hits me.

  “I often wonder what our brother would have been like. If he’d take after mom or dad, or be a combination of both. But I guess it’s a blessing that God took him. We’ll meet him eventually. His name was Brian.”

  The pieces of the puzzle can’t possibly fit together that way, can they? Missing time, a baby only lived two days, no funeral, a priest at the house…

  I know it but cannot prove it.

  You have resources I do not.

  And suddenly I think I know who my anonymous source is.

  I stand bolt upright, my eyes wide. “Oh my God…”

  “What?”

  “I think I figured it out. When I had lunch with Becker’s daughter, she told me her mother had a baby with a lot of health problems that only lived two days and his name was Brian.”

  “I never heard that story. Is it in his bio?”

  “It’s nowhere to be found.”

  “How does the media not know this?”

  “Becker kept it quiet. You can do that when you’re filthy rich. His daughter said her mom had a difficult pregnancy and was in bed for nine months. That her parents didn’t tell anyone in case she miscarried so she wouldn’t have to answer painful questions. And when the baby died Becker’s wife and kids didn’t go to the funeral because it would have been too depressing. She said for weeks afterward there was a priest at the house and her mother was angry at Becker after that and never got over it.”

  “Cassidy, you’ve lost me. What does this have to do with a trust?”