Elizabeth
Monday 24 October 2016
08.00am
"Alright Tony, let's do this." I march past my assistants desk into the sanctuary of my office.
The day hasn't even started but I feel its burden in the weight of my shoulders. My body is taut in fight mode as I've prepared myself for the onslaught. Luckily, having an assistant meant calls were fielded and I only dealt with what I needed to.
Tony knew the drill, I've been in the press before, except I'm usually telling the story and not being the subject of it.
"Ok, who've we got." I look up at him as he walks in - a mauve chino tight against his meaty thigh
My assistant is an odd mix of buff but never-been-to-the-gym. He's...chunky. His gut always slightly protruding the belt but covered by a blue button down.
"Before we start," he begins notepad dangling in his left hand.
"I just wanted to pledge my allegiance to you boss. And make it absolutely clear that I'll take your secret to the grave with me. Prah-mise."
Having been witness to Abigail and I at my father's funeral, I knew he was the only other person who had figured out who the tapes mystery woman was. I roll my eyes at his dramatics.
"Thanks Tony. So -who's ego do I have to stroke today to keep my job."
10.36
"Insipid loggerhead." I mumble at the phone where the Governor was just on the line. We'd decided to skip the mayor entirely, I only had the will to stomach one dressing down today.
For the most part the calls have been supportive. Maybe I had more friends in DC then I thought or maybe everyone knew they were one slip up away from being me.
The phone rings again and my paranoia wonders if the Governor hadn't dropped the line before I'd cursed him.
"Yes."
"There's an Andy Bates to see you."
My body automatically moves from its resting position and back to alert.
"Send him through."
Oh what a difference a stellar election debate performance can make on a murderer. The man walks into the office like a rejuvenated rose garden, preening at his awesomeness.
"Ah Liz." He announces loudly, not bothering to knock. Just parading into my office stuffing his ego in there with him. Unbuttoning his jacket, he pompously sweeps into the chair, leans all the way back into it crossing his legs.
"Andy. -Have a seat." I say dryly.
"Ahhhh hahahaha." He acknowledges the dig and points at me winking. He relaxes even more comfortably with a sigh and briefly looks around.
"Nice place you got here. Very - -stately."
The compliment is dragged from the depths of his gut and I can tell it hurts him. Andy seemed more like the corner office type. Mini bar in the cabinets; the space between his desk and the door being able to fit a whole train cart; glass views of the city - that type of guy.
"What do you want Andrew?"
His pugdy cheeks squeeze into a fake smile, the one that only white people can do.
"I am here - Elizabeth, to offer my services." He adjusts the lay of his tie but smoothing it down. "For a fee of course." The smile again.
I am entirely bored by his preposition and have no need for a PR spin on an illegally obtained sex tape that showed nothing except that I was a woman who had sex.
Honestly what is so scandalous about that.
"No thanks." I say, pressing the receiver to the front desk.
"Boss?" Tonys muffled Boston lilt crackles through the speaker.
"Yeah, can you get me some temporary security for this week?" I say this staring right at the parasite in front of me.
"Around the clock?"
"Just working hours. In and out of buildings."
"I'm on it."
"Well." Andy stands clearing his throat so loudly it sounded like something would dislodge. He re-does his button, drops a business card on my desk.
"You'll know where to reach me."
Before he leaves, he turns smiling smugly and says: "I like Lagavulin Scotch, a case of it."
And then just like how he came in he swishes like a showman to which ever portal of hell he comes from.
13.00pm
"Oh come on Harvey get me off your front feed atleast. Since when does TMZ cover politics?"
"Since politicians wanted publicity. Look Liz I'd love to. You know me, I'm a good guy in a ba..."
"Bad business." I finish his slogan for him.
He chuckles. "Exactly. I can't lift this story even if I wanted to it's got a life of its own now. Have you seen the music dub, its hilarious. They're putting it over movie clips, Snapchats, it's all over the place Liz. Do you know the kind of traffic we're getting!?" I don't answer the rhetorical brag.
"The numbers are bigger than Dolezal and Cosby last year. Combined!"
He made all the things he listed sound like gold mines. That was the thing about Levin, he could sell meat to a vegetarian and then publicly release a picture of the purchase on his site. Everything out of the mans mouth sounded like a 2-for-1 deal.
"I tell you what?" He said.
"Give one of my guys an exclusive; we spin the narrative in your favour; get the conservatives off your back. Nobody likes them anyway - they take the fun out of gossipin'. Gossipin's supposed to be fun right! Anyway, just give us the name and I'll make sure you and your friend come out smellin' like roses."
The thought of Abigail's security being compromised snaps something in me that moves into attack mode instead of playing nice.
"I'll tell YOU what Harvey. Give me the name of the goddamn reporter who bought it or I'll have you buried so far up in litigation you'll be printing...
"Oh come on Liz." He interupts.
"You think you're the first person to sue us. I eat lawsuits for breakfast. In fact I thrive on them, the returns on investment are delicious. Plus, the publicity will be great. 'States Attorney uses state resources to hide sex tape? - come on Liz. Call me when you've got somethin' to say." The click of the phone jars me out of the red haze of anger consuming me.
At the beep of the tone. I feel the weight, that's been straddling my aura all day, convulse into electricity and charge into a large explosion inside me. Before I can stop it my arm grips the contours of the desk phone, slamming it repeatedly into the dialer.
I really needed the name of that reporter.
19.45pm
The nondesrcipt white sedan that had picked me up, slides past the gaggle of reporters in front of my apartment into the garage.
"Thanks Carlson." I sigh but make no move to exit the car. Just leaning head sideways, against the headrest, staring forlornly at the underground elevator - wondering how I'll ever gather myself to reach it.
"You're welcome mam." The stone of the man says. He sits not prying into my lack of movement, seemingly content to sit in silence with me for as long as it took.
I sigh and shift my gaze to the front of the car. Then to my driver. Then groan finally opening the door.
20.00
Imagining sinking into the curling embrace of a warm bubble bath, fresh pyjamas and a glass of wine keeps my body upright as I wait for the elevator doors to open.
However at its ding the last resistance to holding my head high is taken from me and my shoulders slump seeing the visitor at my door.
Who, but the ever cool lurker, Thomas Hart, stands at my door. We both know that waiting outside is a false illusion of power he gives me. The man could very well let himself in at anytime.
"Liz." He burrs.
"What." I answer dismissively wedgeing the key into the keyhole. That glass of wine just turned into something stronger.
"I noticed you have a little problem." He walks in behind me.
"Wanted to see how I could help."
"Unfortunately Thomas, you can't kill the internet." I sarcastically smile at him.
I wave the closed decanter to him, offering him a share of my indulgence. To which he shakes his head no.
"I don't drink. Look, I wasnt kidding when I said I'm on your side. Different methods, same goals. So you're screwing the president's daughter, it's not..."
"Candidate." I correct him. "The presidential candidate. Elections aren't 'til November."
"Semantics." He says watching me drain the first caustic shot of whiskey. "My partners don't care. In fact it's great for us. Trust me, it's in everybody's interest that William gets to the oval office. So I'll ask again. You seem to have a problem on your hands, how can I help?"
I watch him and his practiced sincerety. No matter what I thought of the man, Thomas has been upfront about everything related to me. He didn't strike me as a deceitful guy. Just a dangerous one.
I take a swig of the liquid courage to bolster me to face my demons.
"I wanna talk to someone."
He waits. Stares into me. If ever I made a deal with the devil this is what I imagine it would be.
"The reporter from TMZ." I rim the short glass in my hand with my finger. "I need to talk to him. Find out how he got the tape."
Like a loyal soldier of night, he asks no questions. Merely mock bows at me and says: "Thy will be done."
"Thomas." I sternly call. "Don't hurt him. I just wanna talk."
"Damn woman. You think I'm a murderer or something." He chuckles and walks out.
The emptiness of his presence leaves me to the silence of my one lingering realisation.
If Trillium didn't release the tape then who did?