Sweet Little Lies

by Michele Grant

  “Wow! So much to celebrate,” I murmured amidst another round of hugs and high fives. It was all a little overwhelming. Everything was changing so fast. It made me a little nervous. But now wasn’t the time. I looked at my watch. Steven’s present was due to arrive any second. Right on cue the doorbell rang.

  “Steven, can you get that?” I said as I moved to the kitchen to start clearing off space on the countertops.

  He sent me a “what is this?” look and I shrugged and smiled. He opened the door and a line of wait staff walked in carrying covered trays. Delicious fragrances wafted in the air. After the tenth waiter filed in, Chef David walked in with a birthday hat tilted jauntily to the side.“Happy birthday, bro.”

  “My boy!” Steven’s face lit up as he embraced Dave. Ste-fani flew across the room to get a hug in as well. As the three of them embraced, Steven looked at me and pointed.“Did you do this?”

  I shrugged again with a big smile on my face. The waiters were lining up some of Dave’s best dishes. People were already circling.

  Dave shook his head.“Did she do this? Man, she harassed, begged, pleaded, and bribed to get me out here during a busy season. Promised me all sorts of sexual favors.”

  Heads swiveled in my direction.“Not from me! Diane, introduce yourself to Chef David.” Everyone laughed.

  “I don’t think that’s part of my job description, boss!” She laughed, but there was a gleam in her eye as she went over to shake his hand.

  Dave gave me a thumbs-up. “You ready for the other thing?”

  “Yep. Stefani first.”

  Over the past months I had discovered that Stefani had a weakness for sweets, particularly cannoli and truffles. Chef Dave had a cart wheeled in. On it was a three-tiered cake with pink and green flowers, Stefani’s sorority colors. HAPPY BIRTHDAY, STEFANI was written down the three tiers. Stefani clapped. “It’s too pretty to cut!”

  Dave handed her a knife. “Girl, you better cut that creation.”

  She sliced into it.“Oh my God, it’s cheesecake with truffles and cannoli.That’s just evil.” She pointed the knife at me.“Did you do this?”

  “I had a little help from Marcus.”

  “We’ll be needing to keep you two separated,” she teased. “I’m going to wait to taste it until Steven gets his.”

  Another cart was rolled in. I stepped out of the kitchen; I wanted to see if Dave had pulled off my idea. He lifted a huge box and flipped a switch. On the table was a replica of a highspeed train on tracks. The train started moving.

  “Wait, did you make me an actual train of cake?” Steven said.

  “Yes, I did,” Dave answered. “But wait until it comes around the track.”

  Everyone watched as the train came around the circle slowly. On the side of each car a word was written in frosting. Everyone read aloud as each car passed.“Steven. Happy. Birthday. I. Love. You. Christina.”

  A group “Awwww!” swelled up.

  I looked over at Steven. His eyes looked a little glassy. He put his hand out; I stepped forward into his embrace. He wrapped me up, closed his eyes, and whispered in my ear, “I love you, too. So much.”

  “I swear before God, I will pull your player card right here if you cry over this cake!” Dave announced, and everybody laughed.

  I pressed my lips against his once, and then again, and one more time because I loved his lips, too.

  “Hose ’em down!” Carey called out.

  I stepped back and wiped a little moisture out of the side of his eye. He did the same for me. I noticed a few others dabbing with napkins. “Okay, sorry y’all had to witness the sap. Dave, that is officially the coolest damn cake ever. Let’s top off the glasses. Steven, Stefani—you want happy birthday or something else?”

  “Just a plain old happy birthday will do.”

  I lifted my glass and started singing “Happy birthday” to Stefani and Steven. As others started gravitating toward the food and cakes, Steven wrapped his arm around my waist.

  “Best birthday ever, baby.”

  “You like the cake?”

  “The cake is cool, but I like what it says more than anything.”

  I turned in his arms and tilted my head up. “I meant it. I mean it. I love you, Steven.”

  “Well, you can’t take it back now; it’s on the cake and everything.”

  “I’ll never take it back.”

  “You promise?”

  “I promise.”

  “I’m going to hold you to that.”

  “As long as you hold me.”

  We were in our own little world. I wanted to take that moment and bottle it. Everything was absolutely perfect. So of course I started wondering and worrying about what would go wrong… because something always, always did. There was that little part of me that was constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop.

  “Whatever it is, think about it tomorrow,” Steven said.

  I kissed him again.“You know me so well.”

  “Believe dat. Kiss me like it’s my birthday, girl.” He twirled me into a dip and laid those lips on me. By the time I caught my breath, I was back upright.

  “Clarke, hit the birthday mix!”

  Clarke pressed some buttons and the room filled with the booming bass of 50 Cent’s “In Da Club.”

  I took my first drink of champagne for the night, raised my glass, and started shaking my hips from side to side.“Go shorty, it’s your birthday.”

  Steven threw back his champagne and stepped behind me. “You don’t want none of this, you don’t want it. You know I will dance you out of those sexy-ass shoes.”

  “Bring it on, birthday boy.” I dropped down to the ground and came back up.

  “Aw shit,” Carey said as she and Clarke starting dancing. “It’s about to be on. Brinsley dance-off. If somebody scared, they should go home right now.”

  I saw one of the students reaching for his cell phone and I pointed at him and started chanting, “No YouTube! No YouTube!” Everybody joined in.

  When out of the corner of my eye I caught sight of my very proper CEO, Jennifer, chanting and grinding on Rob, I knew we were in for an epic evening.

  35

  And We’re Back in Four… Three … Two …

  Christina—Friday, February 4, 7:02 p.m.

  The reason I knew it was done deliberately was that I had planned how every single segment of this series should flow. I wrote, directed, produced, and edited, so I knew down to the second what was on that film. What I did not script was the follow-up panel, which, for some reason, we decided to film live.

  The series on high-speed rail research and funding was called Project Mercury—Fact, Fiction, or Fraud. It had run for the past five days with our highest ratings ever. Tonight we aired the final segment.Then we planned a live postshow panel that included myself, Congressman Walker, Lance, and Becky Fine, an independent accountant and auditor. Standing around the newsroom watching were Steven, Tracey, Carey, the three Js, Brandon, and various members of the congressman’s staff.

  Taking a deep breath off camera, I caught Brandon’s eye for a second.There was a look of anticipation on his face that threw me for the slightest second. Then the red light went on and I began.

  “Welcome back. I’m Christina Brinsley and I hope you enjoyed our in-depth look at Project Mercury. I’m joined by a number of esteemed guests this evening: Congressman Walker of California, Lance Porter—chief operating officer of the Chi-Wind Foundation, and Becky Fine—a forensic accountant who specializes in auditing government-funded entities. Welcome.”

  After the choruses of “good evening” and “glad to be here,” I dove straight into the issue of the day.

  “I think this documentary has shown what a great thing high-speed rail could be for this nation. The prevailing concern from our viewers is what is it going to cost, and who is going to pay for it. Mr. Porter, your thoughts?”

  “China invested in the neighborhood of 300 billion dollars to get their so-called bullet train
from idea to inception. And they are still expanding. Here in the U.S. it’s going to take that same level of financial commitment. The plan is to build a long-term funding effort from both public and private sources.”

  “And are you prepared for the level of scrutiny that organizations such as Chi-Wind will be under from all the watchdog groups?”

  “After this series, you bet we will.”

  Smiles all the way around. I waited a beat and then continued.

  “Congressman Walker, when we hear the term ‘public funding’—is that just code for more tax dollars out of citizens’ pockets?”

  “Absolutely not. Let me talk a little bit about how the government earns money….” He launched into a preapproved, rehearsed two-minute speech where even his strategic pauses and my thoughtful “Is that so?” were planned.

  When he wrapped, my face turned serious.“Now, sir, you have been under a lot of scrutiny lately.”

  “Can’t take a leak without a witness these days.”

  Oh, he was rolling out the good-ole-boy charm. I flashed a smile.“I know a little about that myself.”

  “Indeed.”

  “But, sir, according to our records there appears to be an amount of money missing from this project, totaling over 500,000 dollars. How do you account for that?”

  “Well, I don’t. I believe somebody took it.”

  We all chuckled.

  “I’m assuming you do not mean you.”

  “Correct. Somebody who is not me took it.”

  “How do you respond to the questions about your lifestyle versus your income?”

  “Budgeting and a wealthy wife.”

  More laughter. Carey held up her hand in the sign that meant “break for commercial, it’s time to pay the bills.”

  I turned to camera two.“When we get back, we’ll go a little deeper to find out where the money went and who is spending it. You may be surprised at the answers. Come back after the break. This is VNN, where your news is what counts.”

  “And we’re clear.”

  I turned sideways while the makeup guy patted and dabbed. Carey came up to the desk.“It’s going well, don’t you think?” I asked her.

  Carey nodded. “The Js are in ecstasy. Ratings through the roof, advertising dollars pouring in, journalistic integrity … yada blah—it’s all win/ win.”

  “I’ll take it.”

  “Maybe you can put a little more stock in the reality of a happily-ever-after?”

  I glanced over to where Steven was standing deep in conversation with two of the Js. I loved that he could talk to anybody, anywhere, about anything.“Maybe so. Just maybe.”

  “See you after.”

  “And we’re back in four…three…two…go!”

  “This is Christina Brinsley. You have joined VNN in the middle of a discussion panel following a five-part series on Project Mercury—a dream to build high-speed rail from sea to shining sea. Ms. Fine, you’ve been poring over the income and expense books from several foundations and state-run entities to align them with the allocated funds from the U.S. Government Accountability Office. Can you start by explaining how an audit like that works?”

  She launched into her preapproved, rehearsed two-minute speech, but when she came to the ending, it was different from what she’d shared earlier.“In this case, however, a second set of books was found at one of the foundations.”

  My eyebrows raised and my pulse sped up. This was new to me.“Intriguing.Which foundation?”

  “Chi-Wind.”

  And this is where the term “dramatic pause” came from. There was everything but the ominous “da-dum-dum” pounded out on the organ. I recovered quickly and asked the next logical question.“When did you receive those?”

  “Just this afternoon.”

  “And what did you find out?” I saw Steven’s face; he looked as stunned as I felt.

  “A lot of inconsistencies, unfortunately. There is income where we cannot locate the sources. There are a lot of cash withdrawals which always send up a red flag.”

  I felt a little sick.“Why is that, exactly?”

  “Well, as you may imagine, once money is converted into cash, it gets harder to trace and easier to make disappear.”

  I did not want to ask the next question. In fact, I wanted to pull the plug on this whole thing until I could figure out what was going on. But this was live television, so I plowed forward. “And exactly how much cash are we talking about that has disappeared?”

  “At my last count, 1.3 million dollars.”

  “Did you say 1.3 million?”

  She nodded.“Yes.”

  “I am vindicated!” Congressman Walker announced. “My name is cleared! I would like to take this opportunity—”

  I cut him off. “Congressman!” I turned blindly to camera one. “When we return, we’ll continue with these shocking revelations.You’re watching VNN, the people’s news channel.”

  “And we’re clear.”

  “What the hell is going on, guys?!” I said to the room at large. “Who knew about this? Have we verified the books? Why am I on TV with my drawers showing? Someone? Any-one?”As I looked, a smile spread across Brandon’s face and he turned to walk away. I yanked off the microphone and hopped off the stage to catch up to him. “What do you know about this?”

  He shrugged.“I just do the research. I found out new information this afternoon, but as usual you were too wrapped up with your man to talk to me. I took it straight to Becky. That’s my job and my role as a law-abiding, tax-paying American citizen.”

  “You sent me a text at two o’clock asking if I had time to chat.That’s what you call giving me a heads-up?”

  “Maybe you need to reassess your priorities. Don’t get mad at me because your boyfriend isn’t squeaky-clean.You always seem to pick the wrong guy, don’t you?” He headed down the hallway.

  I spun back toward the newsroom and shot Steven a look as I passed.

  He put his hands up.“I don’t know anything about this.”

  “You better not,” I hissed, and slid back into the anchor chair. I closed my eyes. Deep, cleansing breath. Deep, cleansing breath.

  “We’re back in three …two …one…”

  “This is Christina Brinsley and you’re watching VNN. Before the break we heard allegations that over one million dollars is missing from the Chi-Wind Foundation books. Congressman Walker, do you know where the money is?”

  “Once the money goes to the foundation, to Mr. Porter and Dr.Williams, I have no access to it. If anything, I believe this clears my name.”

  “Well, that remains to be seen, sir. Mr. Porter, what if any light can you shed on this for us?”

  For someone supposedly thrown for a loop, he looked surprisingly calm and serene. “I can tell you that I have no idea where this second set of books came from.”

  “Well, who else has access to your financial reporting systems?”

  “It’s just myself and Dr.Williams, of course.”

  “So you are alleging what, exactly?”

  “Well unfortunately, Christina, I’m looking over some documents that Betsy just handed me. It appears that several weeks ago, Dr.Williams opened up a personal account offshore with a starting balance of $78,192.64. Money that you and I both know was given to the foundation. Since then, there have been several cash deposits totaling over a quarter of a million dollars.”

  I swayed a little in my seat before turning to the camera. “In light of these recent revelations, I find I have a significant conflict of interest and cannot objectively report on this story any further. When we return, this panel will be hosted by Tracey Tulum, who will continue to hunt for the truth.”

  “And we’re clear.”

  “Lance, what the hell are you talking about?” Steven yelled.“You know I don’t have any offshore accounts.”

  “I’m sorry, buddy. I’m just looking at this documentation. It’s pretty damning.”

  The set was deathly quiet as I unplugged my
mic and motioned to Tracey. She was very pale.“Christina, oh my God.”

  “Don’t worry about it. Focus. Here are my notes. These questions in red were the next up. My closing segment is here and here. You can totally do this.”

  “Christina.” One of the Js called out, and I just put my hand out. There was only one person I wanted to hear from right now. He was arguing heatedly with Lance and looking as shell-shocked as I felt.

  “Steven, can I speak to you in my office, please?”

  “We’re going to want him on camera.”

  “No!” we both said in unison.

  “We’re back on in ten, people. Make the call.”

  “My office…now.”

  As we walked down the hallway, I heard Tracey speaking. “You are watching VNN, the place where your voices are heard and your questions are answered. In light of the information brought to light implicating noted professor and engineering wunderkind Steven Williams, I have taken over the panel discussion on Project Mercury.”

  36

  I Was Set Up

  Steven—Friday, February 4, 7:36 p.m.

  My BlackBerry was buzzing like crazy in my pocket as I followed Christina back to her office.What the hell had just happened? Was it my imagination, or had my whole life just imploded on nationwide television?

  I couldn’t think and I had to think. I needed to think. I just needed a minute to sit down with Christina, sort out what just happened and decide what to do next.

  “Maybe I should go back on air.”

  She pulled me into her office, slamming the door and locking it behind her. “To say what, Steven? To what end? To deny it?”

  “Of course to deny it! What else?”

  “Do you know how many people go on TV to deny scandals like this?” she asked. Her arms were crossed tightly in front of her and she looked as irritated as I felt.

  It suddenly occurred to me what was going on.“I was set up. Duped. Somehow made the scapegoated patsy in the whole thing.”

  “Seriously, Steven—by who, for what reason? Generally, people who say they’ve been set up look guilty as hell.” Her tone was accusing.

  I took a step backwards as I absorbed that.“You think I’m guilty? Is that what you think?”