close and took Preston's hand.
"Governor! Did Tiffany run away, or was she kidnapped?"
Preston shook his head. "Tiffany did not run away from home."
"Then she was kidnapped!" a chorus of journalists yelled.
"At this point, we're not sure what has happened to my daughter."
"Governor Truesdale! Can you effectively run the state with your daughter missing?"
"I want to assure the residents of California I am perfectly capable of running the state during my daughter's absence. A governor deals with crisis. Unfortunately, this crisis is hitting very close to home."
A journalist from a local gossip television show swaggered to the front speaking slowly and clearly. "Governor, would you care to comment on reports we've received that Heather McCall was your lover?"
SECTION EIGHT (Chapters 71 – 80)
TIFFANY – 71
The late morning sun reached over the tall wall at the compound. A few clusters of girls talked quietly amongst themselves walking around the remnant of the burnt out studio building.
The night before, once the fire was out, people eventually had wandered off to bed. Tiffany had looked for Brenda but hadn't seen her. Eventually, she'd gone to bed too. Not too many people were up yet this morning.
Searching outdoors and still not finding Brenda, Tiffany's usually calm demeanor began to slip away. Although she'd never been in the dorms before, she brazenly marched through them, where the dozens of teenaged girls lived.
She didn't know what she expected, but was surprised by the lines of bunk beds in the room. The beds weren't only lined along the walls, but rows stood in the center of the room, too. The scene reminded her of images she'd seen on television of prisons or army barracks. The only difference was, here, the furniture was wooden, not metal. Easily fifty beds crammed the room. Between each row of beds a makeup table stood covered with dozens of various cosmetics.
"Oh look, it's the new princess from the main house." A girl said, hostility lining her face.
"We've all heard about you. Why you slummin' over here?" said a thin girl whose dyed midnight hair hung like draperies on each side of her face. She couldn't have been more than fourteen.
"I'm looking for Brenda, the girl who was supposed to do the live show last night."
"Haven't seen her since before the fire. She was getting ready," the girl said pointing to a nearby bed and makeup table.
"Is that her bed?"
"Who are you, the whore police?"
"No, I'm worried about her."
"Well, stop askin' me questions. In fact, stop talking to me. I don't want nobody thinkin' I'm getting tight with the princess."
Tiffany nodded and continued searching the dorms. After checking the bed area, she searched the huge bathroom facilities at the back of the building. Again, an army barrack came to mind.
Not finding Brenda in the dorms, Tiffany decided to go back to the main house. Maybe Ginger would have seen Brenda or have more information about moving the girls.
Walking across the yard, she smelled the stench of the burnt building in the air. Lazy swirls of smoke still rose from the ruins, increasing Tiffany's fears at not being able to find her friend.
Entering the main house through the kitchen, Tiffany about jumped out of her skin. Her father's voice was coming from the next room. It only took her a second to realize she heard a television.
"Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming on such short notice. I know you're anxious for an update-"
"Turn the flippin' channel. I don't give a damn about some washed up actor turned governor." The voice was Drejohn's.
Tiffany stood motionless. Hurry! Change it! Change it! After a few seconds, the sound of Ricky Ricardo singing Babaloo came from the living room. Taking a deep breath, she went in. "Oh, this is one of my favorite Lucy shows," she said brightly, distracting everyone in the room from the flat screen TV. Hopefully, with her sudden appearance, any memory of what the governor had been saying was driven from their thoughts.
Surveying the room, she saw Big M slouched in one corner of the huge sectional, with Ginger, Vegas, and Laylo sprawled on the other side. The four glanced at her briefly, then returned their gaze to the large screen. Sitting between them, Drejohn commanded his own spot on the couch for himself. His head was down and he appeared to be concentrating intently, writing on a yellow legal pad.
"Where you been?" Drejohn asked, looking up, suspicion in his eyes. "I haven't seen you in awhile."
Figuring word would get back to him anyway, she told him she'd been in the dorms.
Drejohn frowned. "What were you doing out there? I don't believe I gave you permission to go to the dorms."
Tiffany forced what she hoped was a relaxed look on her face. "I was worried about some of the girls. I was just checking on them. Did you know they were helping you fight the fire too? They had trash cans and were throwing water on it."
He snorted. "Stupid bitches. One a them probably started the fire with a curling iron or something."
Tiffany wanted her hands on the television remote in case the station broke in with a news update reporting her missing. She moved over to the couch and sat next to Drejohn. She needed to get him away from the TV.
Leaning in close, she whispered. "I heard some of the girls talking. They said the kennel arena was going to be next." She looked at him with wide eyes, hoping to increase her aura of innocence. "If you lost your dogs, you'd really be in a bind. You may want to go check that building. "
"Who told you that?"
She shrugged. "I don't know. It was dark and I don't know the girls. But I do know what I heard."
His eyes blazed into hers. Maybe he hoped his burning stare would ferret out the truthfulness of her statement. After a few heart attack-worthy seconds, he averted his eyes and stood. "Come on M. Walk with me."
Big M tossed the TV controller on the seat he'd just vacated.
"Ginger, start getting the girls in this house ready for a road trip." Drejohn eyed Tiffany. "Ready to start repaying my hospitality, Princess? I'm thinking we'll have ourselves a private party in Vegas, and then I'll introduce you to some of my boys who run the town." Chuckling to himself, he motioned for Big M to follow him outside.
"See, I told you," Ginger said. "He's taking you to Vegas. I bet he's gonna use you to get him an in at one of the big hotels. He's tried before to get some of his girls in there, but casino security always booted them out." She gave Tiffany an appraising look. "But none of the girls he took before were as high class as you."
Turning, Ginger punched at the legs of Vegas and Laylo. "Get up. We're goin' mobile."
PILAR – 72
At the press conference on the steps of City Hall, Pilar had strategically moved to the podium next to Preston just before he'd opened the press conference to questions. She knew the media would widen their shot to include her stepping next to Preston and taking his hand as he faced a barrage of questions from the reporters.
It took all her willpower not to yank her arm right back when the weasel-faced reporter asked about a sexual relationship between Preston and Heather McCall. Keeping her face impassive was even harder. She hoped she hadn't inadvertently flinched or something.
"Please," Preston's voice took on a pleading tone, "focus on the message my daughter is missing and I'm asking for your help in finding her."
Oh, God, he was going to screw this up.
The reporters, smelling blood, pushed forward, a frenzy of questions being showered at the podium; some of those questions were directed at her. Thankfully, Bain stepped forward and pushed Preston away from the agitated crowd of journalists. "The governor won't be taking any more questions. Thank you for coming," he said, although no one paid any attention. The reporters continued to shout as she and Preston moved inside City Hall to the elevator that would take them up to her office.
Although the elevator was crowded with Preston's security team, Bain, and Pilar's assistant, Crystal, the ride
was silent. Preston stared at the floor, looking like he hoped it would open and swallow him, while everyone but Pilar watched the lighted numbers as the car ascended. Pilar fixed her gaze on Preston. What in the world was he thinking? If he was going to screw some bimbo, shouldn't he have at least prepared to be discovered? Hadn't he learned anything from the dozens of politicians who'd been caught with their pants down?
When the doors opened, one of Preston's security staff exited first, then everyone else followed. Pilar turned to Crystal. "The governor and I need a few minutes in my office. Can you please get Mr. Bain and the governor's security detail something to eat? Make them comfortable in the conference room."
"Yes, of course, Mayor." Crystal ducked her head and scurried away.
Great, even her assistant couldn't look her in the eye.
Preston followed her into her office.
Pilar sat on the sofa that lined one of the walls. Preston followed and sat on the opposite end. "Do you have something to tell me?" she asked.
He shrugged. "What do you want me to say?"
A raging heat filled her body. How could he be so flippant? "Are you kidding me, Preston? I want you to tell me the truth!" She knew her voice was carrying through the door, but she didn't care. "I want you to tell me that reporter is way off base. I want you to tell me you weren't screwing the young girl who was supposed to be giving your daughter bone marrow. Or was that a lie too?"
"You need to calm down."
"Calm down? Calm down? You want me to calm down?" She sprang to her feet
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