“Of course! All work and no play makes you a boring writer. You need to get out.”
“Maria!”
“Did I mention he’s really cute?” she said while moving toward Julia’s closet. “Bodybuilder type. You’ll like him.”
“I’m really in no shape for—”
“Wear these,” Maria interrupted. “And he’ll love your shape. Trust me!”
Julia looked at the skirt and blouse, gifts from her mischievous sister hoping to help her join life’s party. She had only ever worn them in front of the mirror. They were tame by Maria’s standards, but Julia had never been comfortable showing so much skin.
“Come on, Sis!” Maria pushed. “You know what they say. If you’ve got it, flaunt it!”
Julia glanced at the page onto which she’d only typed one paragraph in the past hour. She looked back toward her sister, imagining herself on the dance floor.
“I thought you had ended it with Fin,” she said, easing her way toward a yes.
“Not yet,” Maria replied. “Jared is staying over with a friend tonight, so he won’t know. Come on. I said you’d love to go. Don’t make me a liar.”
“You are a liar,” Julia huffed while wagging her head and accepting the clothes.
“I’ll get you my black heels!” Maria said excitedly as she ran out of the room.
Twenty-five minutes later Julia heard the doorbell while standing in front of her full-length mirror. A rush of excitement met apprehension as she turned from side to side, inspecting every angle. The outfit gave her a mysterious sense of power, as if her femininity were a key that could unlock endless possibilities. She heard Maria greet their guests at the door. The sound of masculine voices deepened both her qualms and her confidence.
The sensation brought to mind the excitement that had been on Angie’s face while she was purchasing Kevin’s lacy surprise. She imagined the admiring look in Kevin’s eyes, a man weakened and emboldened by his bride’s alluring form. Had Angie felt the same sense of power and possibility?
The beauty of Angie’s face quickly faded into the form of another. Julia thought of Monica Garcia, a woman who leveraged feminine power to unlock a different range of possibilities, probably seducing her way into Senator Franklin’s inner circle and teasing her way toward prime assignments with RAP Syndicate.
Julia felt conflicted as she viewed her reflection. But it was too late to change.
“There she is,” Maria sang as Julia approached the quartet of admiring male eyes. “Doesn’t she look adorable!”
“Hello, Julia,” Fin began. “I’d like you to meet my roommate, Gil.”
“Gil?” Julia heard herself say. “Fin and Gil?”
“Fin’s idea,” Craig Gilman explained as Fin flashed a big grin. “But you can call me Craig if you prefer.”
“No. Gil is fine,” Julia answered as she slowly turned toward Maria’s wink. “Nice to meet you.”
“Shall we go?” Maria said, handing Julia her coat.
Julia relaxed a bit once the coat cloaked her bare shoulders and thighs, freeing Gil to finally notice her face.
“You look great,” he said too eagerly as they walked out the door.
The evening was a catastrophe. Craig Gilman turned out to be the polar opposite of Jonathan Sowell.
Jonathan read the right books and drank the right wine. Craig spent the evening bragging about his latest virtual game conquest.
Jonathan had declined an offer to come back to Julia’s room. Craig invited Julia to his place before they finished their first dance.
Jonathan had shown more interest in Maria than in Julia. Craig would have gladly taken either of them, or the girl behind the bar, or just about any willing female.
“It seems to be going great!” Maria whispered in Julia’s ear as the four stood at the bar awaiting refills. “I told you he was hot!”
Julia said nothing, too embarrassed by her own stupidity to blame Maria or Fin or even Gil. Of course he anticipated a good time later that night. Why else would she have worn such an alluring outfit? Why else would she have responded to his touch while dancing? Why else would she laugh at his idiotic jokes?
“I knew you’d like him.” Maria’s last words before heading back onto the dance floor, where she relished the attention of Jared’s teacher. Julia remembered the hurt on Jared’s face from the taunting of his friends. She recalled Maria’s decision to end the relationship out of respect for her son’s feelings. Julia knew that wouldn’t happen anytime soon.
“What do you say we get outta here?” Gil’s breath reeked of alcohol as he placed his hand on her backside.
“That’s a good idea.” She shifted her body away from his paw. “I need to get an early start in the morning. I better get home.”
A stunned look came over Gil’s face as the rejection sunk in.
“Home?” he blurted indignantly.
“Thank you for a fun evening,” she added quickly. “But I better call it a night.”
Neither Gil nor Maria spoke the entire drive home. Fin tried easing the tension with an occasional inane question, but they didn’t respond. Both were irked by the abrupt end to their party. Julia walked alone to her front door as the trio drove away toward Fin’s place, where he and Maria could finish what they had started on the dance floor and where, she assumed, Gil would take a cold shower.
Closing the door behind her, Julia inhaled a deep breath of peaceful silence, a tonic for the noisy pretending she had endured the past few hours. She had learned that she, like her sister, could dominate the sandbox of Guyland, where women easily controlled the masculine sex. Wearing the right clothing was all that was necessary to obtain no-strings-attached delights. But she wanted more than a panting boy looking for a female in heat. She sensed her femininity held purpose beyond an erotic thrill with an overgrown adolescent gamer.
Changing into her favorite baggy T-shirt, Julia grabbed her tablet and slipped into bed. Having spent the entire day ignoring messages, she now wanted to clear the docket in order to start fresh in the morning. She deleted three automatic news alerts before opening message number four.
FROM TROY SIMMONS: I enjoyed our conversation Monday. I’d love to see you again on your next visit to DC.
Julia felt a smile form on her lips.
Chapter Forty-Three
Julia kept herself under the blanket like a girl holding her head under water. It didn’t work. She remained wide awake despite nearly thirty minutes trying to force herself into a deep sleep. She vacillated back and forth between opposing sensations, her body echoing the rhythmic teasing with Gil on the dance floor while her heart recalled the admiring eyes of Troy Simmons during their Botanic Garden stroll. Against her wishes Julia’s subconscious seemed to fuse the two very different experiences into a single romantic fantasy. It craved the thrill of uninhibited sexual fulfillment. But it also dreamed of pure, even noble love.
She pulled back the covers to resurface and to catch her breath. That’s when she heard the familiar ping of a newly arriving message.
FROM PAUL DAUGHERTY: Hey, Jewel. I need an update on your trip. Give me something I can use to buy you a little more time.
“Buy me a little more time?” she barked at the tablet, abandoning her plan for an early-morning start. It would instead be a very late night.
Julia reached for her phone and pressed Paul’s image.
“You’re awake. Great!” His tone didn’t match the words. He sounded jumpy, like a man with two left feet forced to perform a tap dance.
“What time is it?” she asked.
“Don’t know. Midnight-ish?”
“Why do I get the feeling you’re in panic mode?” she asked.
A short pause.
“Paul?”
“I’m still here. Just thinking.”
“Thinking about what?” She braced herself.
“About how much to say.”
“How much to say about what?” She swallowed back the irritation and anxi
ety surfacing in her voice.
Another pause.
“OK. I’m going to trust you with something, Jewel.”
“I’m honored!” she said with biting sarcasm.
“Behave yourself and listen.”
“Sorry. Go ahead.”
“Complete confidentiality,” he insisted.
“I understand.”
“RAP has been sold.”
“What? Why?” she asked.
“Who knows? Too much debt. Fewer subscribers. A drop in ad buys. Probably all three.”
“What does that mean for us?” For me?
“Hard to say. I’ll probably be replaced.”
“Why?”
“New owner means new editorial direction.” He sounded embarrassed. “I’m the old direction.”
“Conservative buyers?”
“Not at all. Way left of me.”
“There is nothing to the left of Paul Daugherty.”
They shared a nervous laugh.
“Apparently times are changing.”
Julia let a few seconds pass to avoid appearing eager to know her own fate.
“You have always been a great writer, Jewel.”
Here it comes, she thought.
“Heck. I owe much of my success to your work in the early days.”
It was the first time she had ever heard Paul acknowledge Julia’s part in his rise up the RAP ladder.
“But memories are short in this industry.”
He stopped, as if enough had been said.
“And?” she fished.
No bites.
“Paul? There’s more, isn’t there?”
“That’s all I can say, Jewel,” he mumbled.
“Please, Paul. Just say it.”
“I think this would be a good time for your byline to appear on a big feature. That’s why I’ve been pushing so hard on the bright spots thing. Like I said, memories are short.”
Her stomach tensed as she heard what he had avoided saying.
“It’s my column, isn’t it?” she asked.
“I didn’t say anything about your column,” Paul replied.
“I’m losing it?”
Another silence.
“When?”
“I don’t know.”
“When?” Louder this time.
“I could get into real trouble if—”
“And I could be losing my job, Paul! Please, just tell me what they said.”
He cursed. “OK. But you didn’t hear any of this from me.”
She spent the next few minutes trying to believe her ears. In a few weeks the new owners of RAP Syndicate would be canceling her contract for the weekly column. Apparently “respectable” numbers weren’t good enough. They wanted to make room for a new, rising star of the political left.
“Who?” she asked.
Paul didn’t know.
“Monica?” she assumed.
“Not a chance.”
To his credit, Paul seemed uncharacteristically eager to use what little leverage he had left to put Julia in the best possible light with the new owners. They wouldn’t care about her Pulitzer Prize–winning feature of days gone by. But they would have a hard time ignoring an unflattering scoop on Franklin’s austerity measures in advance of his expected announcement to run for president.
“Time’s short, Jewel,” Paul explained. “I need something really good really soon. Any day now I might move from editorial director to copy editor. I won’t have much say in things when that happens.”
Swallowing hard, Julia thanked Paul for whatever he had done and would do to position her well. Then she ended the call.
Chapter Forty-Four
A renewed sense of urgency compelled Julia to relocate to the kitchen to boil a pot of water. She made a single mug of caffeinated tea with milk and carried it to the sofa in the adjoining living room. Sleep no longer an option, she sat down to read and reread the outline of a story that had stalled inadequately twelve hours earlier.
THE BREEDERS
(OUTLINE DRAFT 3)
PART ONE = HISTORY OF THE FISCAL CRISIS: Two productive workers for every debit senior. An unsustainable ratio.
PART TWO = IMPACT OF THE YOUTH INITIATIVE: Four million transitions have helped balance the scale. Lower senior-care expenses and more capital in the hands of younger workers and entrepreneurs.
PART THREE = FRANKLIN AUSTERITY TEAM: Closed-door meetings with political and business leaders seeking solutions.
PART FOUR = BRIGHT SPOTS CONTROVERSY: Radical breeder agenda receiving unexpected attention. Claims raising national fertility levels better than increasing transitions. (Note: Quote Kevin Tolbert to keep bargain.)
PART FIVE = CRITICS SKEPTICAL: Breeder proposal faces opposition as influential Washington insiders and business leaders criticize it as unworkable and naïve. (Note: Quote Trisha Sayers and Nicole Florea.)
Julia closed the outline and opened the first draft she had been working on before the disastrous fishing expedition with Gil. As expected, the words were a disappointment. The story felt like a skeleton without flesh, accurately structured but lacking life. She recalled Paul’s advice. “People care a whole lot more about being with it than they do about being right.” She had to find a way to portray the people supporting the proposal as hopelessly behind the times.
She took a sip of tea while considering next steps. She had promised to include Kevin’s perspective in his own words in exchange for preemptive access. But Kevin was too sharp to come off as either naïve or behind the times. She needed something else.
Scanning her outline one more time triggered an idea. She placed her mug on the side table to free her fingers for typing.
PART SIX = GUILT BY ASSOCIATION: Include an extreme example of the breeder culture to show the agenda they hope to force onto others.
She recalled the peculiar-looking gentleman sitting to her left during Kevin’s Tuesday presentation. She remembered his seeming the most supportive of all attendees, and that she had jotted down his name and a reminder to research his background.
Dr. Bryce Richert was a successful ob-gyn. Several data points suggested the embodiment of a radical breeder agenda. He made a nice living delivering babies. He had five grown kids of his own who had spawned a slew of grandkids. And he seemed displeased with a minor amendment to some transition-approval policy, as if reluctantly accepting improvement on a program he would rather end.
Julia searched and found the right contact information to send a quick note.
DEAR DR. RICHERT: I’m a friend of Kevin Tolbert writing a RAP Syndicate feature on the Bright Spots proposal that will include extensive quotations from the congressman. I would love to add your perspective if you are available for a brief conversation in the next day or two. You pick the time. Thank you, in advance, for considering my request. Julia Davidson
She then sent another short message.
PAUL: I’m very close. Two more short interviews to add that will add color. Please buy me a little more time. Thanks much!
Creative juices flowing again, Julia began reworking her story. The summary of economic trends could be moved to the middle. The opening needed to grab the reader’s attention and create a quasi-conspiratorial urgency. The words came quickly.
THE BREEDERS
By Julia Davidson (RAP Syndicate)
A coalition of influential conservatives has been meeting behind closed doors with presidential hopeful Senator Joshua Franklin to explore economic incentives that will increase fertility among women of childbearing age. Critics are crying foul, accusing the group of advancing a radical agenda masked as attempts to stabilize our faltering economy. What kind of agenda? America, meet the breeders.
She sat back and took another sip of tea while admiring the perfect opening hook. An hour later she had completed the entire first draft. Only two missing sections: on-the-record comments from Kevin Tolbert and a carefully nuanced portrait of a hopelessly-behind-the-times breeder named Dr. Bryce Richert
.
Chapter Forty-Five
Angie couldn’t remember a time she had felt this angry.
It must be some kind of mistake, she told herself. Kevin would never do something like this without speaking to me first.
But he had. The official notice said so in digital black and white.
To the parents of Leah Angelica Tolbert:
We are pleased to inform you that Leah has received preliminary approval to participate in an Alpha Group to receive four infusions of GE633, a DNA booster in development at Genhance Laboratories. This treatment has been cleared for testing on human subjects after successful results in three closely related species. Treatments will proceed once both parents submit digital signatures acknowledging their understanding that this particular genetic enhancement therapy is currently classified as experimental. Please read the attached detailed description of the treatment history, process, and risks. Feel free to schedule an appointment should you wish to better understand the potential benefits of GE633 in improving Leah’s condition.
Kimberly Johnson, Office Assistant to Dr. Wayne Galliger
“Can you believe this?” Angie spewed toward two-year-old Joy, who was peering at Mommy over a bowl of Fruity Pebbles. “An office assistant knew about a risky treatment for Leah before her own mother knew!”
Joy’s brow furrowed in a sympathetic echo of her mommy’s disgust.
Angie tapped Kevin’s speed-dial image to deluge him with questions. When had he spoken to Dr. Galliger about Leah? Hadn’t they agreed it wasn’t their job to “fix” their baby? And most importantly, how could he go behind her back on something this important?
“Hi, beautiful.” His unique greeting for Angie’s calls. “Sorry, I’m tied up. Can’t wait to talk to you.” A brief ping invited her to leave a message. She hung up, refusing to raise the subject on a thirty-second recording.
Angie looked back at the message on her tablet screen. The name Dr. Wayne Galliger seemed vaguely familiar, but she couldn’t place it. She decided to open the attachment to learn about the supposed benefits of GE633 and the risks she had no intention of taking.
Fatherless: A Novel Page 25
