by Lizzy Ford
“Molly and her staff are crafting a speech for you for a press conference,” he says without looking up. “I’ll review it before sending you a copy.”
“Can’t be worse than Shea’s,” I mutter. “Did Joseph accept my counter offer?”
“He did, with the caveat you might have to do more than one press conference, given the scope of issues the media is covering. Joseph wants either his staff or Molly’s to prep your speeches.”
“Okay.” I don’t like the idea of several press conferences, but it’s better than letting Joseph run my entire life to further his political career. “I’m betting the first press conference will be very soon.”
“Tomorrow.”
“But I look like shit!” I reach for my throat with my injured hand and end up in pain.
“Exactly.”
I hate that people want to put my injuries on display. I don’t want the entire world knowing I’m hurt!
Chris glances up at me, sensing my distress. “Two to three press conferences, and Joseph leaves you alone. You can do this.”
I’m nowhere near as certain as he is. At this point, there’s no turning back. I have to go through with everything, no matter what I feel.
Later, when I’m in my safe room, I open my diary for the first time in a couple of weeks.
Dear Diary,
I don’t want to tell you what’s happened since I last wrote. I’d rather not remember everything if I ever read this stupid thing again.
I feel … different. Everything has changed again the past couple of weeks. I don’t feel better or good or anything like that, but I feel like I understand what I need to do, or like some things have clarified for me. It’s difficult to describe. For almost three months, I felt shaky, scared and about to break down every second of my day. Now, I feel … solid inside. I know what I need to do. I know who I can trust. I’m still scared, but I no longer question myself, because the man I wanted to love me no longer matters.
That part hurts, though. I still want Gerard to care for me. I shouldn’t. I should be able to walk away and never think of him again.
That’s stupid, isn’t it? To want someone like him to love me?
I guess it doesn’t matter. What’s important is that I understand him and I understand how different my real father is.
Chris has already proven how much he cares. Gerard’s limitations extend far beyond what I discussed with Dr. Thompkins so far. It’s not about his inability to communicate. It’s about his inability to care.
Chris has chosen me over everything: his brother, his job, his life. He’s the father I want and need, even though it’s hard to let go of Gerard.
I can’t stop thinking about how funny it’d be to see Chris and my mama interact.
I can’t stop thinking about how my mama has smashed everyone around me to protect me, either. She hasn’t been the greatest mother, but like Chris, she steps up when she needs to in her own unique way.
I miss her but I kind of hope I don’t see her again for a while.
17
The DA officially announces charges against Robert and Madison for my rape the next morning. If I thought life was a madhouse before, it becomes an asylum when the press has something solid to run with.
I leave the condo sometime around ten in the morning for a press conference at noon.
The entire street is blocked with press vans and media members, to the point it takes us forty minutes to drive two blocks.
Safe and invisible behind the thick, dark glass of the windows, I start to wonder how this can possibly end.
I also wonder how I’m going to have ice cream with Dom and his nieces if I can’t leave my home. This disappoints me more than anything else. I snap a picture of the chaos and text it to him.
Maybe you and your nieces should come over to my condo. I don’t think we’ll make it out.
My phone vibrates with Ari’s texts.
You’re on a Chinese news site! She’s sent me a link, but I don’t look at it.
“Speech,” Chris says and hands me his tablet.
I set aside my phone. This time, I read what’s been written ahead of time.
It’s short, boring and honest. I’m not sure which cousin wrote it, because neither of them seems capable of this level of honesty.
Then again, they’ve both been supportive in their own ways. I don’t know them as well as I thought I did. If I make it out of this mess, I might want to sit down with them one day as friends rather than political allies and see what they’re like. As far as I know, I’m still a bridesmaid for Molly’s wedding, too. I go back and forth between wanting to like my cousins and despising them for being politically motivated.
I glance at Chris, whose focus is on his phone. Logging into my email account, I pull up the speech I wrote. I’m done with letting other people tell me what I should feel and say.
I’m probably going to piss off my cousins today, but I’m going to say what I need to.
Awesome. Just tell me what time. Dom’s text distracts me.
I smile. I’ll send someone out for ice cream. Ari and I have tons of fingernail polish. We can have a girls’ night in.
I have three sisters and three nieces. I’m used to doing nails, is his response.
I set my phone aside and return to the tablet. I minimize my email before returning it to him.
“You only smile when one of them texts,” Chris says, observing me.
“When you don’t piss me off, I smile when you text, too,” I retort.
He shakes his head. He has no idea what to do with me most of the times.
We reach the back of the hotel where the press conference is being held.
“You ready for this?” Chris asks as the SUV stops.
“No,” I say, clenching my phone in my good hand.
A Fabio opens my door, and I hop out. It’s quiet back here. I don’t want to imagine what the front of the hotel looks like.
We enter through the staff entrance and walk through the quiet hallways. I’m not the only one with a security detail; Molly and Joseph have a couple of Fabios in suits blocking the hallway, checking press passes and lurking in corners.
Joseph is already speaking when we reach the conference room. Molly stands behind him, and I join a staff member from Molly’s team hiding in the wing. Chris hands me the tablet with the speech pulled up and ready.
Accepting it, I shift so he can’t see what I’m doing then pull up the speech I wrote.
I hear Joseph speaking, but I have no idea what he’s saying. I’m too nervous, and my heart feels like it’s smashing into my ears. I don’t notice when he stops talking either. I don’t realize it’s time for me to walk on stage until both my former siblings are looking towards me, and Chris nudges me.
I walk onto the stage. There’s no banner behind the lectern this time. I’m not sure what Joseph’s plan is, and I don’t want to ask.
I approach the lectern. Joseph and Molly stay close. I can’t look out over the sea of faces; if I do, I’ll pass out or throw up.
Setting the tablet down, I clear my throat and start to read.
“Politics are a family affair. Success in this career relies upon every member of the family doing his or her part to contribute to the career of whoever has political aspirations. I learned to say, to look, and to be the kind of daughter that would go over well with the press and public. Staying under the radar and out of trouble was my contribution to Gerard’s career.
“That all changed when I heard the latest victim in the series of rapes in which I was involved had passed away. Her name was Tanya Dearing. She had a mother, father, two younger sisters, and a scholarship to Georgetown, where she hoped to study medicine. She wasn’t concerned about how the public would receive her or what the media might say about the color of shoes she wore.
“She was a real person, someone with hopes and dreams, someone who could’ve made a difference, someone whose life was cut short by the same men who attacked me.
>
“If I stayed quiet, and said nothing about who hurt me, I would have remained the dutiful daughter of a successful politician. But that wouldn’t have saved the next woman who was attacked. It wouldn’t save anyone else’s life.
“I was too late to save Tanya, for which I’ll never forgive myself. I thought I’d lose everyone and everything by coming forward. I was surprised by who stayed in my life. Most of my family supports me. Some do privately and others support me publically. It doesn’t matter to me which route they choose. What matters is that they help me feel like I’m not alone.
“They have helped me find my footing and helped me decide that I will not stand back and watch others suffer, and I will not hide the truth. It’s not just about me or doing the right thing. It’s about protecting others from the people who hurt me. My intentions are to pursue this trial and ensure my attackers are sent to jail for the rest of their lives.
“I failed to protect Tanya, and I won’t fail anyone else. This past week, I was …”
I stop, unable to shake the surreal image of Gerard sitting down next to Keith Conner and talking about keeping Robert out of jail. I still can’t believe that night was real.
Molly takes my free hand, and Joseph wraps his arm around my waist, jarring me out of my thoughts. Oddly enough, I’m grateful for them being there. They’d never win a Best Sibling award, but they are trying, in their own ways.
Recalling where I am, I turn my attention back to my speech.
“This past week, I was pressured for the second time by someone I trusted not to go forward with the truth. This person used to mean the world to me. It helped me appreciate those in my life who have supported me even more. I’d like to thank my father, Chris Abbott-Renou, for sticking by me from the beginning. He’s become the foundation on which I’m standing. I’m proud to be his daughter and to call him my father. Chris and I are our own small family, and I couldn’t imagine anything better.
“I’d also like to thank Joseph and Molly for their support. Our age difference kept us from getting to know one another well, and I’ve learned more about them the past few months than I’ve ever known. They’ve helped me navigate the politics of what’s happened. Finally, I want to thank Ari and Dom for believing in me when I didn’t believe in myself. I will always count you as my family.”
It’s not the best speech. It sounds clunky and rushed, but it’s the truth.
There’s a pause after I’m done before the shouting begins. Reporters are on their feet, yelling questions towards the three of us. I look up from my tablet and then at Joseph, surprised by the audience’s sudden fervor.
“We hadn’t told them about your real daddy,” Molly whispers into my ear.
For once, I don’t give a shit about messing up. Everything I said was truthful, and I didn’t outright name the Connors or Madison in anything, which should appease Chris, whose rules about talking to the press I only half paid attention to.
“No better time than now,” Joseph said, eyes twinkling. “Good job, Mia. You’ll always be our little sister.”
I’m ready to run. I step aside as he slides to the lectern to answer questions, and Molly walks with me back to the wing. When I’m out of sight, I sag. I want to cry.
“You sure you don’t want a career as a politician?” Molly teases.
“No fucking way,” I whisper.
“You did wonderful. I’m proud of you.” She hugs me and then leaves. The words are too casually spoken for her to be manipulating me.
I watch her return to Joseph’s side. I never in a million years thought I’d hear Molly tell me she’s proud of me. I really do want to know more about my siblings … cousins. Someday. Maybe in ten years, once I’ve recovered.
“Good speech.” Chris’ voice sounds tight.
My attention turns to him, and I’m shocked to witness the expression on his features. He’s trying hard not to show his emotions. I’ve never seen Chris not in control of himself.
I hesitate and then hug him. He’s as uncertain as I am but returns the hug. We don’t speak. I don’t know if either of us really knows what to say.
“Sir, the car’s ready,” one of the Fabios says.
Chris pulls away. My eyes are blurry from tears. I accept my phone back from him, and we leave the conference room. Some of the media members have discovered the back entrance. It takes four Fabios to escort us to the SUV. Once we’re inside, I check my phone.
OMG. Best speech ever! Ari has texted.
Proud of you, reads Dom’s note.
My eyes mist over again, and I lower the phone. I’m too shaken to respond.
“Did I avoid the things you told me to?” I ask Chris.
“Close enough.” His smile is genuine. “Thank you for including me in your speech.”
“I don’t think Molly and Joseph were expecting me to tell that much of the truth.”
Chris laughs. “No. I don’t think they were. You did the right thing.”
“I think so, too.”
The ride home is long, compliments of the swarms of reporters. Ari sends me the sensationalized headlines as soon as they hit the internet. I have no regrets when it comes to revealing the truth about my father. Chris deserves recognition for what he’s done, and I’m tired of living in a family full of liars.
The press didn’t have to leap far to understand who was pressuring me. They picked up on what I didn’t say so quickly, I’m surprised.
“Far away, as in California?” Chris asks.
“Maybe. I don’t know yet,” I murmur.
“What about your friends?”
“I have a few months to figure things out. And you have a few months to subject Dom to whatever horrible background check you want to.” It’s too much for me to think about right now. I don’t want to know what Gerard’s press team is going to do. Our family’s split and press war is going to be at the top of every media site from here on out. The Connors are likely to focus on me, too, now that I openly sold Gerard out.
“I already started,” Chris replies.
I groan. “I’d say things can’t get worse, but I already know they can.”
“You might be surprised. The good news is that the Connor attorneys were told to buy us off, no matter how much money it took. Failing that, they intend to bully us.”
“How is that good news?” I ask skeptically.
“Because that means there’s something they want to hide. Tenet will tell me nothing. The Connors are scared, maybe more so than Gerard. For all we know, they promised him the VP spot in exchange for the opportunity to pressure you.”
“Gerard is the bad guy but not the worst guy,” I say. “It doesn’t excuse him for what he did.”
“Nothing does.”
We ride in silence back to the condo and make it through the throng of people to the private, underground entrance.
Chris starts to climb out of the SUV and then stops. He’s staring at his phone, pensive.
“I need to go somewhere,” he says after a moment. “Stay in your apartment the rest of today.”
I have no intention of trying to leave. Two Fabios escort me to my condo, where another Fabio is at the door.
Only when I’m safe in my condo can I start to relax. I change out of the pantsuit Molly texted me to wear and then sink onto the couch after popping another pain pill. The more stressed I am, the tenser my neck gets, and the worse it aches.
The condo is too quiet, and my nerves are too raw for me to feel comfortable. I turn on a movie and go to the kitchen to see what Nellie has left me. Frozen lunches and dinners to last me the next few days – and a bakery box full of almond croissants. Texting Ari and Dom, I sit down with two croissants on the couch and wait for Chris to tell me what happens next or when I have to start showing up at court.
18
I spend the next two days in my condo. It’s quiet and freaks me out at first, but the longer I’m there, the more comfortable I become. Dom and Ari text me all the time to keep me
company. Dr. Thompkins comes to talk on Thursday afternoon. That night, I venture to sleep in my bed again – and it’s not terrible. I wake up once kind of freaked out but manage to fall asleep again.
It’s another victory, along with the press conference where I wrote my own speech. I purposely don’t want to think about the chaos I accidentally caused. I’ll take my victories where I find them.
I avoid anything where I might see the news. I don’t want to know how bad the tornado is that we’ve unleashed with the press conference and Robert Connor’s arraignment. I don’t see Chris for two days, either, and imagine he’s out there somewhere, doing his attorney thing of keeping me safe from the world.
As it turns out, I can’t escape everything. He texts me Thursday to be ready for a talk with the DA on Friday.
Accompanied by three Fabios, I have to be driven the two blocks to the police station because of the amount of media members between my building and the station. We even have to go in the private entrance reserved for police officers to avoid the crush of people in front.
I’m taken to the DA’s office rather than another horrible interview or conference room. Surprised to find no one else but Chris present, I enter and close the door behind me.
“Good to see you, kid,” the DA says.
“More bad news?” I ask, bracing myself. “You need to do a body cavity search and throw me in jail for a week?”
Chris gives me the look.
“You’ve got your father’s razor sharp wit,” the DA says with an amused glance at Chris. He motions to the chair in front of his desk. “Two weeks ago, Robert Connor’s attorneys requested an informal discussion about the evidence against Robert and Madison. It’s unusual, given there were no charges yet, but often, in high-profile cases, we cooperate more than we would otherwise to prevent bad press, which you seem to have no problem fueling.”
“And?” I snap, irritated by him already. “Has someone else come forward?”
