by Allen, Sara
"Then why did you ask?" Taylor asked.
"Just wanted verbal confirmation."
Taylor snatched the paper and stared at it. The photo that was taken in the station had to have been taking by an officer, but she had no clue who took the photo outside of Victor's building. She couldn't believe that her private life had been plastered across the Sun Times. Between the shooting and the media, her life was suddenly spinning out of control.
"I'll take care of this," Victor assured, seemingly reading Taylor's mind. "I promise. Just let me handle it."
"Okay," she said in a small voice.
What else was she to say? It's not like she had an alternative. There wasn't shit that she could do. She stood on shaky legs and tossed the paper on the table.
"Look, I'm gonna go. I don't feel like fishing today. I just wanna go home."
Victor's grim expression saddened her, but she wanted to be alone, in the sanctity of her own home. She left the kitchen and headed to Victor's bedroom to get dressed. Victor hurried behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. He snuggled his face in the crook of her neck. His warm breath tickled her skin, making her want to turn into his arms.
He held her tight and whispered, "Don't run, baby. I can fix this. I can make it right. Just don't run from me."
She exhaled and melted into his body. "I'm not running. I'm just going home to refuel."
"Well, I hope that your tank is full by tonight, because I'm coming over."
"Okay," she whispered.
Even though she wanted to be alone, she relented. Victor released a breath, seemingly relieved that she hadn't refused him.
As if she ever could.
creed
After walking Taylor out, Victor went into the kitchen. Kenyatta was sitting at the table drinking Taylor's coffee. He grabbed the paper from the table and looked at the name under the article. It was that bastard, Brent Trainer.
"Get Kara on the phone. Tell her to get over here now. No, wait; tell her to meet me at the Thompson Center office. And get me someone that can spin this shit."
"Yes, sir."
Kenyatta finished what was left of Taylor's coffee and left the kitchen.
Taylor
Taylor exited the elevator behind Gregor and followed him through the lobby. Since it was Saturday morning, the lobby wasn't as busy as it would've been on a weekday. Taylor couldn't be more grateful. She wasn't ready to face a bunch of people that could very well be judging her based on a headline that wasn’t true.
A headline on the front page!
Taylor still couldn't believe that her picture was on the front page of the newspaper, and a very clear picture at that. There was no way that she'd be able to use Eddie Murphy's famous phrase, "It wasn't me". How was she going to explain that fucking article to her parents?
And, oh, God... work.
How on earth was she gonna show her face?
Taylor took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. She needed to calm down. She hoped it wouldn't be as bad as she thought. She hoped that maybe she was overreacting.
It was just one paper. Once the story dies, they will move on to something else. After all, we’re in Chicago. There’s always news. Hell, folks are getting whacked in the hood every day.
Who was she kidding? There had been an actual police shooting. A man had died. That shit didn't even make the paper, and she had!
"Taylor, listen," Gregor said, halting her steps. "Collier is waiting out front. When we get out there, I want you to stay close to me, look straight ahead, and do not comment."
Taylor’s heart slammed against her chest. She blinked up at Gregor in shock.
"Wait. W-what do you... What are you talking about?"
"The press."
Taylor's breath hitched. "There's press out there?"
Gregor gave Taylor a look that indicated just how stupid he thought her question was. And thus, he didn't even bother to answer. He wrapped a protective arm around her and led her out of the front door. Getting through the circus that was waiting for her was quite the feat. And judging by the amount of camera flashes and microphones shoved in her face, it was safe to say that the press wouldn't be moving on any time soon.
Collier held the door open, donning a sympathetic expression. Gregor ushered Taylor into the back seat and slammed the door shut, but that didn't stop the cameras from flashing outside of the car. They all wanted a good shot of the governor's "married lover". Collier walked around to the driver’s seat, and Gregor slid in next her.
"You did good. Now I need you to do the exact same thing when we get to your house."
"My house? Fuck!” Taylor shrieked. “Of course they're at my house!" Taylor covered her face and slouched down in her seat.
"Miss Montgomery, please believe that the governor will handle the situation. He knows how to deal with the media," Gregor assured.
"But I don’t!" Taylor snapped.
Taylor felt immediate remorse. Gregor was only trying to reassure her. He didn't deserve for her to be so short with him. "I'm sorry, Gregor. I didn't mean to-"
"It's fine. I understand, Miss Montgomery. Really, I do."
"Thanks for getting me out of there."
"You're welcome, but we’re not done yet. I need the keys to your house."
Taylor nodded and fished through her purse. She handed over her keys to Gregor, who handed them over to Collier.
"Here's the plan; we're going to pull into your driveway. Collier will open your front door while we wait in the car. Once the door is open, you do it just like you did it at the tower. Okay?"
"Okay," Taylor agreed.
But everything wasn't okay, and Taylor knew it.
CHAPTER 14
creed
Victor didn't think that he could become more inflamed than he already was. But when Kara sashayed into his office wearing a tasteless, skin-tight dress, with a smug satisfied look on her face, he was even more pissed. Had she been a man, he would've beat that smug look off of her face. Victor realized that he should have let her go after her fake suicide attempt. But foolishly, he thought that she would behave like an adult and eventually get over their brief fling. He was clearly wrong.
She reached for the back of the chair that sat in front of his desk.
"Don't sit," he said abruptly.
"What is it, Victor?" she asked in a bored tone.
Victor tossed the newspaper across his desk. "What the fuck is this?"
She shot a nonchalant glance at the paper and smiled. She actually fucking smiled. "Well, Governor Creed, I would say that that's a very nice picture of you and your new whore."
Victor leaned back in his chair and studied his press secretary. He wanted to leap from his seat and toss her petty ass out of the window. Victor was pissed, but he refused to give her the satisfaction of drawing any kind of emotion out of him.
"You're amused?" Victor chuckled. "Do you want me so bad that you'd allow something like this to get passed you? I mean, really, Kara? Do you feel jilted or rejected enough to throw away a career that you fucked so hard to get?"
She gasped at Victor's harsh words, but he wasn't done.
"Kara, I didn't get this far by being stupid. Do you think for one goddamned minute that I didn't know that you leaked that fucking story?"
"How dare you!"
"Please save the feigned outrage. You and I both know that you have a key to the front door of the Sun Times building. The only way that story could've gotten past you, is if you planted it yourself."
"I didn't leak a damn thing!" she shouted. "You're not gonna put this shit on me."
"Why did you show up at my apartment last night, Kara? You were demanding to know who was inside; why? And, just how did you know that I had a woman inside?"
"I-I..." she stuttered.
"I'll wait," Victor said, rubbing his chin.
Before she could fabricate an answer, Kenyatta's voice interrupted via intercom. "Governor Creed, Renee Griffin has arrived."
All the color drained for Kara's face at the mention of her biggest rival.
"You keep thinking of an answer," he said to Kara as he stood to his feet.
Renee entered Victor's office with a smile on her face; a smile that immediately disappeared when she saw Kara.
"Governor Creed, it's good to see you," she said to Victor, extending her hand.
Victor took her smaller hand in his and smiled. "Renee, thank you for coming."
"What can I do for you?" she asked, totally ignoring Kara's presence.
Victor retrieved the newspaper from his desk and handed it to her. "Can you fix this?"
"Yes, sir," she responded without even looking at the article. She'd obviously read it already.
"Hold on! What is this?!" Kara screeched.
"This..." Victor said, waving between Renee and himself."...is you're fired."
"Fired?!"
"Fired," he confirmed. "Get the fuck out of my office."
"Victor, I swear to God, I will sue the pants off of you!" she screamed. "I'll tell the world that you fired me after you were done using me up. I'll let everyone know how you fucked me every chance you got, and then threw me away!"
"I'll deny ever having a sexual relationship with you and paint you as the deranged, jealous, stalker that you really are," he responded with a calm that pissed her off even more.
"You're a liar!"
"No, I'm a politician," Victor chuckled. "Get the fuck out."
Kara stormed out of his office, slamming the door hard enough that it made the room shake.
Victor looked, apologetically, at Renee.
"Look, Governor Creed, if you're driving the women that crazy, please don't expect me to sleep with you," she quipped.
He laughed. "Fair enough.”
CHAPTER 15
Taylor
After fighting through a crowd of reporters to get inside of her own home, all Taylor wanted was a drink, a hot bath, and believe it or not, Victor. When she saw her face on the front page of that paper, she should have run screaming from him. It wasn't that she thought it was his fault. After all, he didn't write the story or take the pictures. However, the expectation of privacy while dating the governor of Illinois was more than a little naive. If she didn't want to live under a microscope, she should have ended things with Victor. But somehow, she knew that she couldn't. That man did something to her. He put it on her good; in fact, better than any other man before him. Victor made her feel beautiful and sexy. He was all man, tall, thick, and dangerously handsome.
Taylor poured herself a glass of Pinot Noir and walked over to the sofa. She plopped down and grabbed her phone. She called her dad to cancel their trip. To her surprise, he never mentioned the article. She was thankful because she knew that he read the newspaper religiously every morning. He had to have seen the article, along with the derogatory headline. He was surely trying to save Taylor the embarrassment of explaining it. She studied her phone and debated whether or not she should return some of the many calls that she'd ignored. Deciding against it, she called Victor instead. When he didn't answer, she tossed her cellular on the sofa, went into her bedroom and plopped face down on her bed.
After ten minutes of inhaling his scent from her comforter, Taylor decided to get up, take a shower and shampoo her hair. Washing her hair would be the perfect distraction since it was long thick, and completely natural. Combing it out and twisting it was bound to take at least an hour. After that, she'd find something else to occupy her time and keep her from obsessing about the lie that had been printed for all of Chicagoland to see.
***************************
Taylor stood in front of her bathroom mirror and twisted a section of her hair into a Bantu knot. She was wearing her old SIU t-shirt and a pair of shorts, thinking of how simple life was when she was in college. At that time, her entire life consisted of school and parties. It was college where she'd met Darin, her ex-husband. He was the dark chocolate, fine as hell, campus playboy that she thought that she had tamed. He was an affectionate, attentive boyfriend that wasn't ashamed to profess his undying love for her. So when he proposed at their graduation, Taylor felt as if she had won a prize. She jumped at the chance to marry him. However, shortly after the I do's were said, the affection stopped.
With her parent's marriage as an example, divorce was never an option for her. But, apparently, the union between Taylor's parents didn't mean two shits to Darin when he came home from work one day and told her that his mistress was pregnant and that he was leaving her. It was a part of Taylor's life that she wished that she could erase. But since she couldn't, and since she heard the sound of her front door opening and closing, she shoved all thoughts of her disastrous marriage and Darin back in the past where they belonged.
Taylor left the bathroom and walked down the hall. She entered the living room to find it empty.
"Hello," she called out.
"I'm in the kitchen!"
Taylor relaxed at the sound of Maria's voice. She walked into the kitchen and leaned over the breakfast bar, watching Maria help herself to her wine.
"They still out there?" Taylor asked.
"Yep. Oh, and, if I were you, I wouldn't turn on the TV."
"The TV?"
Taylor was mortified. She hadn't even thought about the television media.
"Girl, yeah. They damn near on the verge of a prayer vigil for your poor innocent husband."
"Ughhhh... Fuck me," Taylor groaned, covering her face.
"There's a bright side," Maria offered.
"Yeah? What's that?"
"You look amazing in those pictures. Your ass is making a statement all by itself," Maria chuckled.
"Oh my God! I can't believe this bull-"
Taylor's rant was cut short when she heard the click of lock on her front door. Taylor hurried into the living room in a panic. She wasn't afraid for her safety. She was seconds away from her weapon, and Maria was definitely packing. Her panic was sparked by the fact that the only other people that had a key to her house were her parents, and she wasn't ready to face them. To her relief, it was Kenyatta that entered.
"Hey," she said as she turned to lock the door.
"Kena, how did you get a key to my house?"
"You haven't figured out just how resourceful I am yet?" she responded with a smile.
Taylor didn't respond. She was not amused.
"How did you get a key to my house?" Taylor repeated.
"Oh, calm down," she said, looking between Taylor and Maria. "Collier still had your keys. He said that he forgot to give them back. I took the liberty of using them because I was getting swarmed by reporters."
Taylor hadn't given her keys a second thought. "Oh."
"Kena, this is my friend and partner, Maria Mendez. Maria, Kenyatta is Victor's personal assistant."
"Please call me Kena. Everyone outside of work calls me Kena," Kenyatta insisted.
"Kena, would you like a glass of wine?" Maria offered.
"Maria, I would kill for a glass of wine."
"Come on. We're in the kitchen," Taylor gestured with a wave of her hand.
As Maria poured, Taylor asked, "So, what's up? What brings you by?"
"Well," Kenyatta hesitated a second before blurting, "I'm here to get you and take you back to the penthouse."
Taylor frowned. "What? Why would I go back to the penthouse? The media would have a field day with that."
"Taylor, just in case you haven't noticed, you could be staying on the moon and they'll still have their field day."
"Victor said that he was coming over here. Have you talked to him?"
Kenyatta knitted her brows and looked at Taylor as if she had just asked to most ridiculous question ever.
"Of course I've talked to him."
"Can't you tell him that I'll stay inside until I have no choice but to leave the house, and that I'll see him when he gets here?"
"Mm mmph," Kenyatta said, shaking her head. "I can't tell him that. Coming to get
you was my idea. Taylor, he's the governor. I'm sure you understand that now that your address is public knowledge, there are some security issues. Besides, the governor had to go to Springfield to put out a few fires."
Taylor walked out of the kitchen without responding. She went and got the glass of wine that she'd left in her room and finished it in one gulp. She headed back into the kitchen with every intention on refilling the glass at least four more times.
"Taylor, I need you to pack a bag."
"Kena, I don't want to go out there," Taylor said, waving at the window. "I don't wanna go back to Victor's apartment so that those bastards can be all in my personal business."
Kenyatta's expression became sympathetic. "Taylor, sweetheart, that ship has sailed. Those bastards out there and those bastards at the penthouse are already in your personal business. And, I'm sorry to say... as soon as you fucked the governor of Illinois, not once, twice, or even three times, you became news."
Taylor could tell that Kenyatta was attempting to deliver her harsh words with as much patience as possible.
"The only thing that you can do now," she offered. "…is handle the situation with the dignity of the strong, classy sister that you are."
"She's right," Maria added with a shrug, before taking a sip from her glass.
"Fine," Taylor relented. "I'll pack a bag."
"Thank God," Kenyatta said with a chuckle. "If you had said no, Governor Creed swore that he'd come over, throw you over his shoulder, and carry you out of the house, media be damned."
"Damn, I love that man," Maria mumbled under her breath.
CHAPTER 16
creed
After several face-to-face meetings and fielding call after call from campaign contributors, Victor realized that he hadn't heard from his biggest, most important benefactor. He pushed the intercom button.
"Yes, Governor Creed?"