“Rigo Lystra? He is among the richest people in the world with his own army and a fleet of private jets at his disposal. How on earth is he a victim?” Natalie asked.
“Rich men can’t be innocent?”
“Famous women can’t be assaulted?” Natalie did her best to summon her version of Ryan’s Earnest and Sincere look. “I’m curious, Ryan, what would you like Sonia Barbaro to do? Give up her career, go into hiding? And if you would silence Sonia Barbaro, an international celebrity, what kind of message are you sending far less powerful women who are worried about being shamed for speaking out about assault?” Natalie asked.
“Alleged assault,” Ryan corrected. “No one has been found guilty here.” His eyes shone as he took the high road. He was right. “And let’s talk about who’s really in hiding. Rigo Lystra is holed up in a building on Massachusetts Avenue that he can’t leave. He can’t have a life. While Sonia Barbaro is globe-trotting and going to Hollywood parties dressed like a stripper.”
“Guys, this is great stuff!” the control room enthused. “We have a surprise caller. Stand by. We’re letting him join you now.”
The next voice came over the crackling sounds of a cell phone line.
“Hola, mis amigos. ¡Buenos días!” said a familiar voice.
“¡Rigo, mi amigo!” Ryan broke out in a warm grin. “How are you?”
“To be honest, my friend, it is very hard. Living here in solitude. For me, freedom is a memory.”
It took all Natalie’s willpower to hold back a groan. According to the Washington Post, he’d had the cast of Cirque du Soleil flown in for a show the night before.
“Admiral Lystra, hello, this is Natalie Savage,” she said, using his official title. “I understand you’re a big fan of acrobatics. You had a Vegas-style show at the embassy last night, with a sushi dinner, yes? Help us understand how that’s a life of solitude,” she challenged.
“Some of my friends have been kind enough to keep me company, this is true,” he said plaintively. “But I am still a prisoner.”
“Our own State Department says you can leave any time and they will guarantee you safe passage out of the country.”
“No, this is not true. The Venezuelans would take me.”
“What evidence do you have to support this claim?” Natalie pressed. “And, respectfully, why should we believe you over our own State Department?”
“Because the Venezuelans cannot be trusted,” Rigo said, raising his voice. “In America, you do not understand. Venezuela is very bad country run by very dangerous people. Very dangerous! It is a cancer in our hemisphere! The threat from Venezuela is greater than you and the American people know. Today they threaten me. Tomorrow they will threaten my country. Soon they will be a threat to us all. They must be stopped.”
Natalie, surprised he’d veered into a foreign policy argument instead of the he-said-she-said, was formulating a reply when a voice from the control room yelled in her ear.
“Guys, we have breaking news. We’re going to bye-bye Rigo. Savage, you’re handling the news. Someone should be out with a sheet by now.”
Out of nowhere, a hand emerged from under the anchor desk. Looking down, Natalie was startled to see the laconic associate producer she’d spoken to in the control room the day Rigo was kidnapped, crouched under her legs, using one arm to pass her a piece of paper. Accepting it, she resisted the urge to wave hello at him.
Suddenly music was playing in her ear and she looked up to see the monitors fill with bright red graphics and the words Breaking Development, which shattered into a thousand tiny pieces. Natalie faced the camera as a voice in her ear said:
“We are interrupting our coverage for breaking news—”
“We are interrupting our coverage for breaking news,” she said.
“From TMZ,” the voice said.
“In from the celebrity news organization, TMZ.” Oh god, her mind screamed, please let this be legit.
“FLOTUS lover,” the voice said in her ear.
“TMZ has new details about the Mystery Man in those videos with the First Lady,” Natalie said. Just then, the monitors went full with the surveillance video of FLOTUS with her unnamed lover, which allowed Natalie the freedom to look down and read from the piece of paper she’d just been handed.
“According to TMZ, the man in the video is named Anthony Cantrell,” she read. “He’s led quite the jet-set life. He was a model in his twenties, but no known career since then. In recent years, Cantrell has been in residence in Palm Beach, Chicago’s Gold Coast, Paris, and Hollywood.” Natalie could hear the sound of her own heart pounding in her ears.
“Ryan, we’ve got photos,” someone said in Natalie’s ear.
She paused to let Ryan take over. “Let’s get a look at Mr. Cantrell,” said Ryan. On the monitor, photos of the Mystery Man popped up. He was photographed with one wealthy woman after another. Ryan narrated, “Here he is with an heiress of an automotive fortune. This woman here is married to Brazil’s Sugar King. And this woman—a child really—is the daughter of one of France’s biggest pop stars.”
Ryan paused and shook his head. “Well, Nat, there’s one thing all these women have in common. They’re loaded.”
“If the reporting is right,” she said, feeling both defensive of the First Lady and wary of anything that came out of Ryan’s mouth, “at the very least it raises a lot of questions.”
“Like just how big a gold digger is this guy? And why is the president allowing the First Lady to humiliate him like this?” Ryan asked.
When they went to break, the voice came booming into Natalie’s ear. “Guys, this is great stuff! Home run. We were planning to go to taped programming at the top of the hour but New York wants us to stick with the live coverage.”
No! Natalie’s mind screamed as she flicked her eyes to a clock. 10 a.m. “I can’t. I have to go.” She powered on her phone and saw it start filling up with texts.
SARAH: Morning!
SARAH: I tried calling and got voice mail. You didn’t oversleep, did you?
SARAH: Earth to Natalie?
SARAH: Um, you remember what today is?
SARAH: Holy shit! You’re on TV. What are you thinking? It’s Mom’s wedding. I don’t care how important you are or what’s happening at work, you need to figure out your priorities and get here. Now.
Natalie jumped out of her seat.
“Today is my mom’s wedding,” she said, ripping off her microphone and throwing off her earpiece. “You guys can handle this without me. I gotta go.”
As she was running out the door, she heard Ryan pick back up.
“Sonia Barbaro has been famous ever since she was a little girl. When she was just ten, she told the Venezuelan press she wanted to get an Oscar before her twenty-fifth birthday. Now she’s a seductive, ambitious, grown woman. Some say her claim against Rigo Lystra could earn her that award...”
It is what it is, Natalie thought as she headed out of the building.
24
Bury My Heart with Noreen’s Apothecary
Natalie knew that if she went over eighty miles per hour on the George Washington Memorial Parkway, she risked getting slapped with a misdemeanor reckless driving charge. On the other hand, arriving late for Noreen’s wedding guaranteed her a lifetime of weaponized guilt, so she floored it. She’d have to make the remaining fifty-minute drive in forty if she was going to get to her mom’s in time to change before the ceremony started. It could be done. Just barely.
“I’m so happy for you,” Natalie said aloud as she cruised down the parkway. “I’m so happy for you,” she repeated, trying out different intonations. She’d found having a line ready to use on her mother made their conversations easier because she didn’t have to think about what to say, which meant she didn’t have to think about what her mother had said. Their communication went much more smo
othly when neither of them paid close attention.
Natalie pushed her speed to ninety miles an hour when her phone buzzed.
“Siri, please read me my texts,” she said to her phone.
“Looking up hexes,” the polite British male voice she’d assigned to Siri answered. “There are two million two hundred sixty thousand entries for—”
“No. Read me my texts,” she tried again, more slowly.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t get that. Do you want a history of vests?”
Third time was the charm.
British male Siri started reciting. “Sarah writes—are you en route? I told Mom you’re almost here. I currently reek of something called Wild Woman Luna Drops and am not washing it off till you arrive.
“Sarah writes—I mean it. You better be on your way. I think I’m losing my sense of smell.
“Sarah writes—this is for your sake more than mine. If you are late, you’d better plan to make a new life for yourself somewhere far from Bridezilla.”
Natalie laughed. She liked the way British Man Siri said Bridezilla.
“Siri, please reply, tell Mom I’m there but I’ve gotten so thin she can’t see me without her glasses. Mom will be thrilled.”
“Sarah writes—pro. Bowly. Mom keeps asking if I’ve gained weight since my fitting. Apparently my ankles are particularly offensive.”
“Siri, please reply, I’m on my way. Be there by eleven forty-five. How is the new McMansion? Is it McDecorated in a McTheme?”
“Sarah writes—are you dictating your texts? I am not sure what a macman sin is but I think I want one. Sounds both tasty and naughty. But if you were talking about the decoration, I promise you will be astonished.”
“Siri, reply, say more about that please.”
“Sarah writes—let’s just say I’m calling it Aztec Barbie Dream House.”
“Siri, reply, I am trying to picture that but sort of in the way that you watch horror movies through your fingers.”
“Sarah writes—hurry up and get here! Mom’s coming at me with a diffuser full of patchouli.”
“I’m so happy for you, I’m so happy for you,” Natalie intoned as she sped through the suburbs of Virginia. She did some fancy in-and-out-driving, causing two people to honk and one man to give her the finger. “I’m so happy for you,” she yelled at him as she sped off and she meant it, especially when she managed to arrive in front of her mom’s new house at exactly 11:45. A few hours late for the bridesmaids events, but plenty of time to change for the wedding. It was like not being late at all. She’d run in and change—surely her mother would still be primping.
She jumped out of the car, grabbed her suitcase, and wheeled it to the front door. From inside she heard barking and through the window she could see Cronkite, her dad’s black Lab, running in circles of excitement. Her dad used to say Cronkite always knew when she was headed home.
“Hello?” she said, pushing open the front door, getting a face full of furry dog. Paws on her chest, Cronkite stood licking her face in huge long slaps. She laughed, but felt her throat get a little tight and had to close her eyes against an unexpected welling of tears. Fuck, she thought. She heard glasses clinking and the sound of people talking in the distance and knew she should go and join the party. She was too old for this. For how much longer would the sight of Cronkite make her feel like her dad was still alive?
“How kind of you to join us. Or did you only come for the dog?”
Natalie felt a jolt of primal fear, like a kid caught wearing muddy shoes on a white carpet. She spun around, pushing Cronkite to the floor. “Mom! Hi! I’m so sorry I’m late.” Ignoring the survival instinct telling her to duck and cover, she leaned in and gave her mom a hug. Her mother was wearing a long lace and fringe dress, with feathers in her hair. If she were a doll, she would have been called Original American Stevie Nicks.
Natalie stepped back in a pantomime of admiration. “Mom, you look amazing!”
“I know. I’ve been using the most wonderful yam and pumpkin enzyme peel. It’s just delicious. If it weren’t for the hyaluronic acid, I swear I might eat it!” Noreen threw her head back to give Natalie a better view of her throat. “Is the contrast with my neck too extreme?”
“You look great, Mom.” If her mother’s neck had been covered in irradiated scales, Natalie would have given the same answer. “You look gorgeous and happy like a beautiful bride.”
“Actually, I think it’s all the orgasms,” Noreen said in a whisper. “Your father liked sex well enough, but wasn’t very good at stimulating me. Gerald is just so much more gifted in that department. I know he isn’t much to look at, but his skills bring out the most erotic response. He’s a true sexual dynamo.”
Natalie stared at her mother, wondering how normal daughters would react to this information. “I’m so happy for you,” she said.
Clearly displeased to not have provoked a more heated reaction, Natalie’s mother switched gears. “You are late and we’re holding the wedding for you. Just you. I asked you to come yesterday, and you couldn’t be bothered, and now we’re all waiting on Miss Important TV Star.” She surveyed Natalie. “I see the studio did your makeup. The eyelashes are a bit much, don’t you think?”
There was no way to win—in this battle, every victory was a defeat. Plus, Natalie really wanted to check her phone and knew her mother would freak out if she did it right there. So she raised the white flag. “I’m really sorry, Mom. I’m sorry I’m late. I’ll go upstairs and change and tone down the makeup, okay? I can be ready really fast.”
“Natty! Natty!” The squeal was accompanied by the sound of tiny pounding feet and Natalie looked up to see Sarah’s four-year-old daughter, Lulu, running straight at her.
“Hi, sweet Lulu! I’ve missed you,” she said, catching the little girl in her arms and spinning her around with a squeeze. She buried her face in her niece’s neck and inhaled the feeling of warmth and love. God, she’d missed this. It had been so long since she’d last seen her. “I’m so happy to be with you,” Natalie said, lifting Lulu high in the air to get a better look at her. “Don’t you look like a big girl in your flower girl dress!”
“Gramma doesn’t like my dress. Gramma says Mommy should have got me a more ’ganic dress. But I like this one!”
Lulu twisted her head around to look at Noreen, who said with exaggerated pronunciation, “Organic,” then with a sigh explained, “With what we know these days, it’s unwise to dress little people in anything other than organics. I read that polyester can contribute to autism, learning disabilities, and several unfortunate skin conditions.”
“I’m not little,” Lulu declared and, turning back to Natalie, said, “I’m five. Well, almost five. Really four and ten months, but soon I’ll be five. I go to kindergarten.”
“I know,” Natalie said with a laugh. She was filled with wonder and a bit of jealousy of Lulu’s calm handling of her grandmother. “I think your dress is beautiful. And I agree you’re definitely old enough for it. Four and ten months is super grown up.”
Natalie put Lulu down as a group of Noreen’s friends came crowding in, followed by Sarah. The sight of Sarah was like a balm for Natalie, giving her palpable, physical relief. More than anything she wanted to run over and hug her but was intercepted by two of Noreen’s new friends.
“You must be the famous Natalie! I watch you on TV all the time.”
“Such a treat to meet you. Your mother is constantly bragging about how successful you are and posting all your pieces on Facebook. She is so proud of you.”
Natalie watched her mom transform her gaze into a beatific, maternal glow. “Yes. And her father would be so proud, too. Makes me tear up just thinking about it.” Natalie did her best to stop herself from letting her disbelief show. Was it possible her mother, who had nothing but criticism to her face, boasted about her to her new friends?
Sarah shot Natalie a look that said Do Not Make a Scene, and Natalie did as ordered.
The real Noreen returned as soon as the women left. “You know I’d already met your father by the time I was your age,” she said to Natalie. “I had your sister when I was two years older than you. Aren’t you dating anyone, Natalie?”
You can dress her in all naturals, marry her to a nudist, but you can’t take the nosy out of Noreen.
“I’m so happy for you,” Natalie said.
Noreen frowned. “What is that supposed to mean? Is that some kind of insult?”
Natalie’s thoughts suddenly went to her phone. Had she left it in the car or was it in her bag? She really needed to check it.
“I think it means she’s happy for you, Mom,” Sarah translated, lunging forward and grabbing Natalie’s hand. “I think she needs to change. And I want a few minutes to catch up with her.”
Noreen looked unsure then said with a wave. “Fine, but hurry up. Natalie has already done her best to try to ruin my day. I will not accept any more of her chaos.”
“Curses, foiled again,” Natalie said under her breath and got an elbow in the ribs from Sarah.
With Lulu leading the way, they trooped upstairs and down a hall painted deep red and turquoise with a massive feather serving as wall art. “Is this just for the wedding, or is Mom really this into Native Americana?” Natalie said.
“Unclear. You should see what she did downstairs. It’s Southern gentry shabby chic,” Sarah said, then pushed open a door and immediately stepped aside, letting Natalie get the first huge whiff of extra sweet cotton candy smell.
Natalie recoiled with a yelp and felt an instant headache bloom. “Seriously?”
Savage News Page 23