by Ines Saint
Finally, he said, "Filip. Filip is off-limits." He'd find a way around the others.
* * *
Kayla got off early the afternoon of New Year's Eve. She went straight home and began throwing things out of her overflowing carrying bag until she finally came upon the thin, popular local tabloid she'd bought on impulse.
Everyone had been talking about it, and she'd tried to ignore it... but snapped it up the moment she spotted it on a newsstand during her lunch break. Then she regretted it, but instead of tossing it, she stuffed it as deep down into her bag as possible. Much like the pit of her belly, it was now a crumpled mess.
She took a quick breath and flipped to page twelve. "After I caught them, a sobbing Candace confessed that Jake swept a leather-bound copy of Persuasion by Jane Austen off the mahogany desk before persuading her the desk was a good place to start," read the silly caption below the picture of an attractive couple, dramatically torn in half.
Kayla had read that very book her first day there, when she had been trying to stay away from him. And it had been on the desk.
She sighed and tossed the paper into the trash, not knowing what to think. Her mother and sister were at her Aunt Gina's house, preparing for her annual New Year's Eve bash, but they weren't expecting her until after four. She climbed the stairs to crawl into bed, be miserable and confused, and pretend it was a much-needed rest.
* * *
Late that afternoon, Jake looked around the tiny room that was supposed to be the green room except it was all pink. It had to be some sort of a psychological thing because he'd heard two of the women hated the color.
Fluffy, fuzzy, bedazzled deep pink pillows, light pink leather love seats that faced one another, and candy-cane striped pink and white wallpaper all leaped out at him. Jake and Marcus hesitated before sitting down and then fidgeted when they finally did. Jess laughed.
Then Jake caught sight of a long, fuchsia spear in one corner of the room, the silver blade at the end shaped like a star.
"The skewer," Jake whispered to Marcus, nodding toward it.
"Ouch," Marcus whispered back.
"Would you guys please relax? I mean look at you two! You'd think this was death row."
"Death by a pink skewer." Jake fidgeted some more.
"It's a spear. I'm sure it purely decorative." Jess smiled uncertainly, eyeing the long spear. "Come on guys, don't you think this a fun room?"
"It's a room that messes with your head."
"Do you think they're watching us?" Marcus looked around the room one more time, his eyes darting from one corner to the next.
"No. It's six o'clock. They're out there greeting the audience, and you're on in about five minutes," Jess said, looking at her watch.
"Why don't they have a TV in here? Why can't he listen to what they're saying?" Marcus asked, his paranoia mounting along with Jake's.
Before Jess could give another one of her calm, rational answers, the door opened, and a man with a clipboard motioned to Jake. "Mr. Kelly, you're on in five. We need you at the right side of the stage, right through here. When you hear Samantha welcome you, you walk on and smile and wave to the audience. You'll be sitting next to Tess."
The Hippie.
"I'd like to stay out there on the wings," Marcus informed the assistant and managed to sound like he wouldn't take no for an answer.
"Sure, one person is allowed offstage." The man turned to Jess. "You can watch it here. The remote control is in the right drawer," he said, pointing to an ivory coffee table engraved with flowers. "And the TV is behind those doors," he nodded toward a large, matching chest that took up most of a side wall.
The man motioned for Jake and Marcus to follow him and was about to shut the door when Jess pried it open. "Don't hold back too much, Jake, okay? You're a likable guy when you let go. So let go. You owe it to everyone who's worked their butts off for you to be yourself out there and show Chicago why we support you."
Jake looked at Jess for a long moment before nodding in agreement. The assistant more forcefully shut the door, and he and Marcus hustled as much as two people feeling like they were walking the dead man's walk could.
Jake stood off stage and watched as the women of She Said, She Said discussed horoscopes, of all things. Samantha lived her life by them, Gretel would sue every astrologist for fraud if she could, and Tess thought there may just be something to be learned from the stars above.
Jake looked out into the audience and wasn't exactly shocked to see something like ten women for every man. So many women... women who had made the show number one in its time slot because Samantha, Gretel, and Tess got them. Because they got to the bottom of things. They got to know people. And today, they wanted to get him. His gut tightened.
The set looked nothing like the 'green' room. The beige, rust-red, and brown color scheme was warm and inviting. He'd even say the set was cozy.
There were two armchairs on one side and a love seat on the other, with an enormous screen behind them. Right now, the screen had a spectacular view of Chicago. Tess was sitting on the love seat, her legs folded underneath her, alone and hugging a cushion, the lonely space beside her reserved for Jake. They'd sit him down, make him feel all warm and comfortable, the five cameras he'd counted would zoom in on him, using different angles, and then...
"Ladies, ladies, more ladies, and gentlemen, we've been inviting our next, highly anticipated guest on our show for months—" Samantha began in her sweet, sing-song voice before she was interrupted by Gretel, who drawled, "More like we've been begging him to come on."
"Right." Samantha laughed, while Tess stared straight into Jake's eyes. He squared his shoulders and jutted his chin out. Tess smiled, winsomely. Jake swallowed hard. "We've been begging a certain enigmatic, inscrutable mayoral candidate on for months, and today, the final day of the year, he's finally agreed to sit down and talk to us. Everyone, please welcome Jake Kelly!"
Jake took a deep, calming breath, walked on set, mechanically smiled, and waved to the audience. When a few women whistled, and a rose and a pair of red panties were thrown at him, Jake couldn't help it. It was funny. His smile widened. When he turned away, he caught Tess grinning and pointing two fingers from her eyes to his. His smile tightened.
* * *
Attempts to catch up on sleep failed miserably, and Kayla switched plans. She'd mope, eat flan, watch TV, and eat more flan. She snuggled on the old living room sofa with the entire plate of dessert, began to channel surf, and froze.
Jake. Off-stage. On She Said, She Said.
Her heart raced. This would be his chance to set the record straight about his playboy image and deny it, or to own up to it and convince the public that his personal life didn't matter. Finally, he was getting off that high horse of his and reaching out, actually doing something other than touting his grand plan.
Would it be enough? She wished she didn't care as deeply as she did, but her racing heart had climbed up her throat. Applause filled the air, and Kayla watched as Jake walked on stage with a practiced smile on his lips. He gave a stiff wave, and a few items were thrown at him. A camera zoomed in on some string that barely resembled panties, and then another camera caught Jake's reaction. He smiled his spontaneous smile, the one that didn't hold back, and his eyes twinkled at the camera.
She stared, transfixed, at the screen. Not believing in Jake felt safe. Believing in him was the risk. So she'd grabbed onto excuses not to believe. Right now, he was being brave. And she was a coward.
They went to commercial, and Kayla hurried into the kitchen, snatched the newspaper from the trash, and held her breath. The words "Candace told me he was very smooth. He led her on, making her feel special," were in large print, under two more pictures of the beautiful woman and her husband. They filled her with dread, but she pushed on and read the article in its entirety, stopping only when she read that when the husband caught Jake and Candace in bed in the master bedroom, Jake ran into the master bathroom and locked the door. She r
ead that twice. Craig Stiles went on to say that Candace grabbed a blanket to cover herself and then ran past her husband to get her clothes, which he’d seen downstairs in the library when he’d come in to look for them, while Craig went to pound on the master bathroom door. Kayla threw the paper down.
The husband, Craig Stiles, had messed up. There was no master bathroom because there was no master bedroom in the house. Jake would’ve had to run past Craig to get to a bathroom, which wouldn’t match anything the man was saying happened. And he couldn’t be mistaking a closet door in the room for a bathroom door because all the closet doors were sliding doors. Jake must've not bothered to read the article, or he would've caught that, and his staff had never been to his house, so they had no way of knowing.
But Jake had tried to reach out to her, to explain, and she'd shut him out because it had felt safer. Now she had information that could help him regain credibility among those who needed to believe he wasn't some skirt-chasing playboy. What could she do?
Maybe she could call Jess or Marcus with the information, and they could have Jake mention it during his appearance. But Jake was already on stage.
The show came on again, and Kayla ran out of the kitchen. Jake was greeting each lady with a handshake, but they each pulled him down for a peck on the cheek. He sat. Gretel spoke, Samantha smiled, and Tess continued to study him. Kayla hugged her pillow.
What if they brought up the decorator’s husband’s story, and he didn't handle it well? What could she do?
And then it hit her. Peter the Blogger! Tess was his mom! He would know what to do.
Peter answered on the first ring, and she rushed into speech, tripping over her words, but explaining the gist of it.
Peter hesitated. "Kayla, are you sure you want to be news again?"
"No," she immediately answered. "I never was, and I'm not now. But this story is getting Jake into trouble, and I know for a fact that it’s false. How can I possibly stay quiet? Being an anonymous source again won't cut it this time. It's too convenient, and won't ring true."
"But no one will believe the 'just friends' story from you this time. Not after the pictures of you two dancing and staring into each other's eyes, and not after the heated arguments. Jake might still come off as a playboy for spending the weekend with you."
"But the decorator’s husband is making him look like a massively insensitive jerk, user, and coward, while I can tell people that he's been a great friend and collaborator, and that I believe in him. They know I've called him out when I’ve needed to—they won't think he hurt me or led me on or used me if I'm putting myself out there for him."
Silence again, and Kayla's stomach tied itself into a new knot when she saw the commercial break was over. "I think you're right," he finally said. "Let's see what I can do."
* * *
Jake sat back and tried to look relaxed while Gretel addressed the expectant audience. "As we've been explaining to our studio audience, Mr. Kelly has agreed to our no-holds-barred interview." Gretel rubbed her hands together, and the audience laughed.
Tess nodded. "We love to have fun on our show, but there are subjects we take seriously. Candidates for every seat imaginable in the great state of Illinois have left our show either hating us, loving us, or hating us before they loved us, because we take their roles as leaders seriously, and we put them on the hot seat. We work hard to get to the truth, and as our viewers know, we've helped the city and state avoid some real phonies."
Jake felt stiff as a board. He wanted it to be over with. The hot seat sounded bad, but the truth sounded great. He'd take the heat if people would learn the truth about him, but he wanted to be on the other side already.
"We asked you, the viewers," Gretel pointed to a camera, "To email, instant message, or tweet any and all questions you have for Jake Kelly. He's on trial, so to speak, and you're the jury. And let me tell you... Even though this was a last minute booking, we've been inundated!"
"Curiously enough," Samantha continued, her eyes wide and not at all innocent, "Many questions are of a personal nature."
Jake tried not to squirm in his seat, but he could feel his smile slipping. Personal wasn't his thing. Why had he agreed to do this again? His head was screaming.
"Look at him, he's squirming." Samantha clapped her hands together, clearly delighted. The audience laughed.
"I'm not squirming. I'm looking forward to your questions." He tried to smile again, but he couldn't make the corners of his mouth go up. More laughter.
"Jake, honey, calm down! Relax. Let your guard down," Tess coached. "If you are who you say you are, you have nothing to fear."
Jake breathed in and out, realizing that the only way to get the whole thing over with was to get the whole thing over with. "Let's do this. Fire away." He faced his execution squad.
"Okay, you heard him. Fire away!" Gretel's eyes gleamed. "What exactly, and in full detail, is your real relationship with heiress Julia Hamilton?" She gestured at the giant screen behind them, and Jake saw pictures of him and Julia attending different events throughout the years.
"Julia Hamilton is an old friend," Jake explained and smiled fondly at the pictures.
"In full detail," a member of the audience shouted out. Samantha laughed. "Right, in full detail."
Jake turned away from the screen and cleared his throat. "Details," he said, clearing his throat again. Everyone was looking at him. He didn't have all day.
"This is live television, Jake, and the cameras are all zeroing in on you. People at home are going to think their screen has frozen," Gretel teased.
Tell the truth, and you'll be fine, they'd said. Well, he'd give it a shot. "Julia is one of the sweetest people I know, and I love and value her as a friend, or a sister, even. We've been in each other's lives for forever, it seems, and we have each other's backs. But there's never been anything even remotely romantic between us," he answered truthfully, thinking maybe this whole thing wouldn't be too bad.
"How does it make you feel when gossip columnists say she's waiting on the sidelines for you?" Tess asked.
Truthfully, it made him feel like pounding the columnists, but he couldn't say that. He looked up. "Guilty."
"Guilty?" Samantha repeated.
He nodded. "When Julia's name is dragged into this, it makes me feel guilty. She's a very private person, and she didn't sign up to be heralded as this, I don't know, a martyr for me, when that's not who she is at all," he said, more forcefully than he'd intended. "To be honest, when you first asked me how I felt about it, the first thing that came to mind was what I'd like to do to those who make up lies about people I love."
"Finally, some fire from you!" Samantha whoohoo'd. The audience echoed her, and Jake shook his head and smiled. When he met Tess's eyes, he saw she'd gotten what she'd wanted from him.
"Moving on!" Samantha took control again. "You were also linked to Kayla Diaz, and that was quite a story," she began. "There were pictures of you two dancing together, and many people thought there was chemistry there, but you later said you didn't even remember her." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the pictures of him and Kayla dancing on the screen, but he couldn't look at them full on. All he'd been able to think about at night when he was alone with his thoughts, was how much he needed to hold her again. To be with her. Looking at the pictures hurt, even with everything going on at the moment. "When you met again, the two of you argued publicly, and we all felt the heat. You hired her despite your differences, and we commended you for it. When the rumors of an attraction between the two of you wouldn't let up, Kayla Diaz forcefully denied any type of connection with you, other than a dance lesson and work, on camera. Now a viewer at home wants us to give you the same chance. So go ahead. Repeat your denials, on camera, Jake."
A few shouts that he better tread lightly rang out. Jake swore in his head because they were right. Kayla could be watching. He had known they'd ask about her, and he'd thought hard about his response, but he hadn't anticipated being a
sked about her quite like this. It was one answer he couldn't afford to mess up. He could handle losing the race, but he couldn't handle hurting Kayla, in any way.
"Kayla Diaz and I have a lot of shared interests, and we're both passionate about many of them, but have different approaches to finding solutions. We argued over those differences, but we also listened to each other—because we cared more about coming up with good ideas than about being right. But she didn't sign up to become fodder for our local tabloids. It wasn't fair to her. She signed up to make a difference, and she did. We proved that compromise is not only possible, but that it helps us grow."
"And that's your forceful, on-camera denial?" Gretel asked in a dry tone. "'Cause I like what I heard, but it sure wasn't a denial."
People chuckled, and Jake desperately wished he could wipe his hands on his trousers. He couldn't say he felt nothing for her because that was a huge lie, and Kayla might believe it, and he couldn't say what he felt, because it would embarrass her. None of this was fair to her. "Look, Kayla and I were becoming friends, but rumors kept getting in the way, making things awkward when they could've been really great. Every denial we were forced to issue drove us further apart because it would make us focus on what wasn't there instead of on what was. My friendship with Julia was cemented, and rumors hurt but won’t get in the way. But my friendship with Kayla was new. I haven't spoken to her in a while, but the last thing I want is to have her out there watching and listening to me focus one more time on denials, on Chicago's highest rated local show, instead of focusing on her amazing ideas for an expanded music program, and my gratitude and admiration."
There was silence, and Jake didn't know what to make of it. It looked like they didn't know what to make of his answer, either. Samantha spoke first, and she looked thoughtful. "Well, I, for one am sorry that rumors got in the way of something that could've been great."