Surprised, tiny Caryn Walsh nearly dropped the whacker. “Oh my God, Patrick,” she said, smiling as she turned off the loud engine and gave her son a hug. “You scared me to death. I thought you weren’t coming until tonight?”
“I got out of work early so I figured I’d spend a little extra time with you. Got anything to eat, Ma?”
“C’mon,” she said as she looked him over. “Did you get taller?”
“You ask me that every time you see me.”
“Must be because you keep growing.”
He put his arm around his mother and the two went into the kitchen where she fixed him a sandwich that he gratefully devoured in seconds.
“You haven’t been out here in a while, Paddy. Your sister Bridget came last week with the baby. That little boy gets cuter every time I see him,” she said as she pulled out some recent photos of her one and only grandchild to show him.
“He’s a cutie, I don’t think I’ve ever seen cheeks like that,” said Patrick, passing the pictures back to his mother. “I haven’t talked to Bridget in a while. Been so busy with work and other things. I owe her a phone call.”
“Family is more important than work. Call your sister.”
Patrick nodded while his mother got up to rinse a couple of dishes.
“You still seeing that weather girl?”
“Yep.”
“Am I ever going to meet her?”
“That’s one of the things I wanted to talk to you about.”
Hearing the serious tone in her son’s voice, Caryn stopped washing, turned off the water and took a seat next him at the table. “Okay, so talk to me,” she said.
“You know I got into personal injury law to pay off my student loans. Over the years, I guess I got used to the lifestyle that goes along with it. I’ve got a nice car, eat at great restaurants, wear custom suits and go out with beautiful women,” said Patrick.
“Expensive clothes and cars won’t make you happy. It’s the people in our lives that bring us all of our joy,” said his mother, looking over at a picture of Patrick’s father hanging on the wall—forever young and handsome in black and white.
“A few months ago, I started volunteering for The Vindication Project,” Patrick said. “They do incredible work, Ma.”
He shared the details of some of TVP’s current legal arguments including the release of Kamal Bolton and the Malcolm Cleary case he was currently working on. When he finished, his mother smiled and squeezed his arm. “Your eyes sparkle when you talk about the TVP work.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” said his mother as she got up to put another dish in the sink. “What ever happened to that girl you told me about, the one you talked to on the phone for hours and hours,” said his mother. “Ever connect with her?”
Patrick shook his head.
“You never know,” said his mother. “She could still turn up.”
59
“I have some huge news,” said Sunny, practically bursting as she let Patrick into her apartment.
“Good huge or bad huge?” said Patrick, putting his heavy bag filled with legal briefs down on her hall table.
“KNYC has offered me the evening news anchor job.”
“No way! Congratulations,” he said as he gave her a kiss. “That whole debacle with Jim Bauer’s wife ended up working in your favor.”
“You don’t think that happened by accident?” Sunny said, smiling. “Nothing in life just happens, you have to make it happen.”
“What are you talking about?”
Sunny took his hand and pulled Patrick over to her white couch, signaled for him to sit and then sat next to him. “I have a little confession to make. I wasn’t completely truthful with you about that whole episode with Bauer,” she said.
“Okay?”
“Bauer and I use the same makeup person,” said Sunny. “This one day, the makeup person went to Bauer’s office to do his makeup for that night’s broadcast. His door was ajar and he was on speakerphone with his wife. Apparently, Mrs. Bauer was majorly pissed off because she found out her husband was having an affair with someone at KNYC. She told him she was going to expose him to management which would trigger the morals clause in his contract. She said he’d be off the air—permanently, unless he agreed to give her the house in Connecticut and the full rights to his pension and 401K in the divorce settlement. If not, she said she’d see to it that Bauer would be accused of sexual harassment and lose his job.”
Sunny poured herself a glass of white wine while continuing her story.
“Then, Bauer called his wife a few nasty names and hung up on her. For years, he’s been a jerk to every woman in our office. Everyone at KNYC already knew Bauer was having an affair with some little brown mouse in accounting—who, by the way, is also married and has four kids.”
“How did your name get linked to the whole mess?”
Sunny smiled and tapped her head with her finger. “That’s where my evil genius comes in. Bauer’s wife was totally right to be pissed off. Her husband was having an affair. But I figured, what good would it do for the little brown mouse in accounting to be at the center of a scandal and labeled a victim of sexual harassment? Technically, I did the mouse a favor and I probably saved her marriage, which I guess makes me the hero in this story. Anyway, I figured if a popular up-and-coming news personality like me were being harassed, it would be picked up by all the tabloids. It could potentially mean a major lawsuit against the station, not to mention possible book and movie deals for me.”
Patrick leaned forward as Sunny continued her story.
“They would be terrified about all the possible negative publicity. I knew if I denied it and he denied it, that would be the end of it. Still, corporate would always wonder if Bauer lied and got me to go along with it to save his job. They’d worry that one day I might change my mind and slap the company with a harassment suit. What with all the ‘me too’ stuff going on in corporate America, they wouldn’t want to take any chances and might offer me something to keep me happy.”
“But how and why did his wife involve you?”
“That was the easy part. I wrote an anonymous heartfelt letter to Mrs. Bauer saying that I worked at KNYC and had seen her husband kissing that weather girl, Sunny Raines, in his office. She already knew he was having an affair so I didn’t spill any tea. From my perspective, it didn’t really matter who the affair was with, just that there was an affair. I pointed the smoking gun at myself to help my career and clearly, it worked like a charm.”
Patrick’s mouth hung open. “You’re unbelievable,” he said. “You tried to get Bauer fired?”
“No, Mrs. Bauer was going to move forward with the complaint to KNYC without any help from me. I simply inserted myself into a situation that was already in play so I could benefit from it. The station would have fired Bauer anyhow, but that wouldn’t have guaranteed me his spot. After everything that happened, the managing director and all their lawyers felt the safest place to put little old me was in his anchor seat. Kind of like a little insurance policy for them. They figured there’s no way I’d sue the company for harassment if I had that anchor job.”
“But you weren’t harassed.”
“Duh,” said Sunny, incredulous. “But I will be the youngest female evening news anchor in the biggest market in the country at the age of twenty-seven. I start in two weeks. I’ll stay for eighteen months and then I’ll make my move to cable news, you know, like CNN or Fox.”
Patrick felt some queasiness in his stomach as he stared into Sunny’s beautiful dark brown eyes. “Somehow this feels very wrong to me.”
“I saw an opportunity and I went for it.”
Patrick shook his head.
“What’s that look for?” asked Sunny.
“I’m kind of shocked you’d pull a stunt like that.”
Sunny let out an exasperated breath. “Nobody got hurt and, in the end, everything worked out for me.”
“You crossed about a th
ousand ethical lines.”
“And I suppose in your profession you never cross lines?” said Sunny defiantly. “Come on, Patrick. Like I said, his wife was already on the warpath and for good reason. Bauer is a pathetic gigolo. I just profited from his bad behavior.”
Somehow, Sunny’s convoluted logic tabled the discussion that day. Patrick had to admit to himself that he too blurred some lines in some of his personal injury cases. Still, he’d never done anything as duplicitous as what Sunny had described and her story weighed on his mind.
60
August 2018
Knee deep in the Malcolm Cleary case and riding wingman on a few other petitions, Patrick was now working for TVP Saturday mornings and Sundays while keeping his extra-curricular activities on the down low from his law firm. At the same time, Sunny’s promotion had filled all of her brain space so she hardly noticed he was MIA on weekend days. As long as he was by her side at an event and occasionally in her bed, she appeared to be content.
One Saturday, while Sunny co-anchored the morning news, Patrick put in seven hours at TVP and headed uptown to meet her at her apartment. They had planned to share a lazy dinner, binge-watch a TV series he’d been dying to see and then not move a muscle for the rest of the night. When Sunny opened her apartment door, she was all dressed up and wearing a red evening gown.
“You seem a tad overdressed for Netflix,” said Patrick.
“You’re not going to believe this. Because of my new anchor role at the station,” said Sunny, “someone gave me two tickets to the New York City Arts Ball tonight. Isn’t that exciting? It’s one of the hottest tickets in town, they’re impossible to get. Everyone who’s important will be there.”
“Tonight was going to be low key. We were supposed to watch movies.”
“I know, but these tickets just landed in my lap. I couldn’t turn them down, could I? It will be great for both of us to be seen there,” said Sunny, rubbing his arm and pouting for effect.
“I’m exhausted and besides, I don’t have any clothes to wear,” said Patrick.
“We can swing by your place. I’ll have the car wait while you go in and change.”
Patrick stared at the stunning woman in red as she looked up at him with pleading sultry eyes. “I’m so tired I can barely hold my head up,” he said. “Go without me.”
“I can’t show up at the ball alone! How would that look?”
“Tell people I got food poisoning or something,” said Patrick.
After five minutes of intense yet unsuccessful negotiating, Sunny changed tactics. “I’ve sat by silently while you went off to pursue your bliss and spend all your free time with criminals,” said Sunny. “All I ask is that you occasionally accompany me to an event. Is that so much?”
Patrick shook his head as he looked up at the ceiling for answers. None came. “You’re absolutely right,” he said. “You deserve more. Sunny, we both know this isn’t working.”
“What’s not working?”
“Us.”
“It’s a little road bump,” said Sunny, walking towards him, her arms extended. “This happens all the time in relationships. We’ll get through it.”
“We’re not right for each other,” said Patrick very softly while backing up.
“We’re perfect together. Sunny and Patrick, we’re a team.”
Patrick tilted his head as he looked at Sunny’s forced optimistic expression. “You and I want different things,” he said. “You’re after a big career in media. You want to go to parties and balls and make a name for yourself. I want to work behind the scenes and try to get a semblance of justice for the little guy.”
“And I think that’s so admirable.”
“You should know that I’m thinking about a big career change,” said Patrick. “Between my day job and the volunteer work, I’m fried. Something’s got to give. If I follow my heart and do what I really want, I won’t earn the kind of money you want and deserve.”
“But…”
“Sometimes, you can care about someone, but they might not be the right person to spend your life with.”
“But…”
“Sun, you know I’m right.”
Tears welled up in Sunny’s big brown eyes framed by thick false eyelashes and liner as she reluctantly nodded. “I do care about you, you know,” she said.
“I know. And I care about you, but we’re not meant to be life partners,” said Patrick, brushing a tear away from under one of Sunny’s eyes with his thumb. “Someone once told me that people come into your life in three ways—for a season, a reason or a lifetime. It’s our job to figure out which bucket they fall into.”
“Was I only a season?” said Sunny, tearing up again.
“You were a lovely season and a reason,” said Patrick, smiling. “We had a great time, but I don’t think we’re meant to be together for a lifetime.”
Sunny sniffled.
“You look beautiful, by the way. Don’t go crying and messing up the fifty pounds of mascara you’ve got on your lashes. Go to the ball, Cinderella. You’ll dazzle them. You always do.”
He walked towards the door and reached for the knob.
“Wait,” said Sunny with determination. “Let’s not decide all this right now. At the very least, after all this time, I think you owe me more than a two-minute blow-off. Promise me we can talk it through, at least so we both have closure and we can walk away as friends.”
“I promise,” said Patrick as he kissed her on the cheek and walked out the door.
Five minutes later, Sunny blew her nose and looked at her reflection in the large mirror on her wall. Taking stock of her appearance, she dabbed her eye makeup, put on a fresh coat of bright red lipstick the same shade as her gown, smiled at her reflection and ordered an Uber to go to the ball.
61
A couple of weeks later, an exhausted Patrick still juggling essentially two jobs, left his law firm at 8:30 at night. Dragging himself towards the nearest subway, he was barely able to lift one leg in front of the other as he walked. All he wanted was to get to his apartment on West 110th Street and go to sleep. Working seventy hours a week was taking its toll.
Remembering there was nothing edible in his apartment, he stopped at a small bodega in his neighborhood to pick up something to eat. Waiting by the register to pay, he noticed a large red, white and blue sign hanging on the wall.
Ben Huston for Senate
Rally in Central Park
– Great South Lawn –
12:30pm Wednesday August 19th
“Would you look at that,” said Patrick, staring at the sign.
“Look at what?” said the older man wearing an oversized gray hoodie behind the counter.
“That sign,” said Patrick, pointing with his chin. “Ben Huston’s going to be in Central Park next week.”
“I don’t know nothing about it,” said the cashier with a thick accent, “my boss, he hung it up. You like this Huston?”
“I do and more importantly, I know someone else who loves him,” said Patrick as he took a picture of the sign and headed out the door. That night in bed, he tossed and turned.
Could I really do this? It’s insane…but it might work. If it doesn’t, I’m going to look like an idiot. Why would he even agree to help me? But he might? If one of my clients asked me if they should do this, I’d advise them not to. But still, this might be my last chance.
At midnight he sat straight up in bed, reached for his phone and texted Lorenzo.
Patrick truly believed he had put the Mystery Woman behind him but when he saw that poster about the Huston rally, all his old feelings came roaring back. One thing he knew for sure, the rally was a sign from the universe and he had to give it one last chance or he’d never forgive himself.
The next day, standing in front of Burgers Inc., a popular neighborhood hole-in-the-wall, Patrick paced as he waited for his friend.
“What’s this big idea you wanted to talk to me about?” said Lorenzo as he approached
Patrick on the street.
“I’ll tell you when we sit down,” Patrick said as they stepped inside the restaurant.
Once seated, they ordered their food and Patrick leaned forward. He pressed his lips together and looked around the room, as if he was about to share the greatest secret in the world. “Congressman Ben Huston is holding a rally in Central Park this coming Wednesday at 12:30,” he said softly as he grinned.
“That’s what you wanted to talk to me about?”
“I want you to go with me,” said Patrick.
“You want me to take a day off to go see some politician?” said Lorenzo.
“He’s not just some politician. He’s the bomb and I need your help.”
Lorenzo leaned back in his chair and raised an eyebrow as Patrick laid out his detailed scheme.
“…and then I’ll get to the rally early and talk to some of Huston’s people. I’ll tell them my story of the Valentine’s phone call and the blackout. I’ll let them know how we were both huge Huston supporters and that’s what brought us together. If all goes as planned, the congressman will make an announcement to the crowd, she’ll hear it and I’ll find her.”
Lorenzo’s face was frozen in a mask of horror.
“Lorenzo, I need you with me as my lookout,” said Patrick as he continued to lay out the details of his plan. When he finished describing his masterpiece, he sat back confidently, waiting for Lorenzo’s reaction.
“What do you think? Genius, right?” said Patrick, nodding, looking for validation.
Lorenzo rubbed the sides of his mouth while trying to find a diplomatic way to tell his friend that he was delusional. “First of all,” said Lorenzo, “you told me you were finished with the Mystery Woman. That she was history, done, over.”
“She was, but when I saw the poster about the Huston rally, I knew it was a sign to give it one last try.”
“You sound like a girl,” said Lorenzo, wrinkling his nose. “You don’t even know if she’s going to be there.”
The Fussy Virgin Page 20
