Rumor Has It

by Cheris Hodges

  Jackson ached for her and he wished he knew the right words to say. But these were battle scars he was ill equipped to handle.

  “Let’s have breakfast,” he said.

  Liza nodded. “That sounds like a great idea. I’ve given you enough of my sob story.”

  “Nah, you’ve given me insight.”

  “And that isn’t a story I normally share,” she said, shivering as she thought about the parts she left out. “Promise me that you won’t throw this up in my face when we have our first or second argument.”

  “I’d never do that.” He stroked her cheek. “Make a promise to me.”

  “What’s that?”

  “One day, you’ll stop painting men with that same brush of pain.”

  Liza wondered if Jackson would prove all of her notions about men wrong. Then she remembered her faith in Robert. One day, the other shoe might drop and she’d find out that Jackson was no different. “One day,” she said wistfully.

  After taking a quick shower and dressing, Jackson and Liza headed to The Original Pancake House for buckwheat pancakes and crepes. “I don’t get crepes,” Jackson said as they drove to the restaurant.

  “Because you don’t have to worry about carbs and calories.”

  “You think so?”

  Liza rolled her eyes. “Normally, I’m in the gym this time of morning. But, I think I got a great workout last night.”

  “And I can’t wait to do that workout again,” he said as they pulled into the parking lot.

  Liza smiled because she wanted the same workout again herself. But, she wasn’t going to let him know that right now. She still had hope that Jackson would wake up and realize that in order for him to win this election, he was going to have to loosen up those tight moral standards he had.

  As they walked into the restaurant, neither of them noticed the photographer across the street snapping shots of them.

  Chapter 15

  After being seated and ordering their breakfast, including a pot of coffee, Liza studied Jackson. He was a beautiful man with haunting eyes. He caught her stare and smiled.

  “What’s on your mind?” he asked.

  “Why are you in politics? You really seem too good for this.”

  “I believe more should be done for people who have given up their lives, health, and families to serve this country. Our servicemen and -women shouldn’t come back to North Carolina, of all places, and have to deal with no health care, no jobs, and wind up homeless. Then there are the poor of this state who are being ignored by the fat cats in Raleigh. It’s not enough to just vote and protest. Sometimes you have to change the system from within.”

  “Not about the power at all?” she asked, then took a sip of her coffee.

  “Liza, I had no intention of ever going into politics. Then I found out that the center where I worked wasn’t going to get any more funding. I couldn’t just walk away and allow the men and women who needed help the most to be ignored.”

  “It’s going to take more than military families to win this district.”

  “Thought we had a deal,” Jackson said, then took a sip of his coffee.

  “Excuse me?”

  “When we’re together, we don’t talk politics. That’s not where . . .”

  “Jackson, I know you think I just want to use you as a tool of revenge against Robert, but I would love to see someone like you win this senate seat and . . .”

  The shrill ring of Jackson’s cell phone interrupted her. “This is Jackson,” he said when he answered.

  “I thought you were smart,” Teresa snapped. “I thought you said you were using your big head to think about all of the people who believe in you.”

  “What are you talking about and why are you calling me so early?”

  Liza shot him a puzzled look.

  “Are you having buckwheat pancakes at The Original Pancake House?”

  “Teresa, are you having me followed or something?” he asked, turning to look out of the window.

  “I’m not but it seems Nic is. I just got e-mailed a picture of you and Liza heading into that restaurant. I’m sure this is going to end up on a blog somewhere or maybe this was the plan all along. And you fell for it. Damn it, you were supposed to be smarter than this.”

  “Let’s talk about this later,” he said.

  “I don’t trust her and you’re a fool if you do.”

  The line went dead and Jackson turned to Liza. “You’re not the only one with pictures,” he said.

  “What are you talking about?”

  He told her what his campaign manager had just shared with him. Liza slammed her hand against the table. “I told you that Nic and Robert weren’t above dirty tricks. Now are you willing to listen to me?”

  “Nope. Two people having breakfast doesn’t make a political scandal.”

  She rolled her eyes and held back her comments. Liza knew what those pictures could do, and she also knew that Nic was the kind of person who’d allow a rumor to spin out of control. And how Robert would use those pictures to further drive the wedge between her and Chante. How could Jackson be so calm about this?

  “I have to go and start some damage control,” she said. Jackson shook his head and smiled as she rose to her feet. He continued to sip his coffee.

  “Please sit down.”

  “You don’t get it, do you?” she asked as she returned to her seat. “Everyone isn’t as honest as you are.”

  “And leaving without eating isn’t going to change anything that’s going to happen in the next fifteen minutes,” he said matter-of-factly. “I believe the voters will focus on the issues and not worry about pictures from either side.”

  Liza smiled and shook her head. “You really do believe in Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny, don’t you?”

  “And don’t forget Superman as well.”

  Liza placed her hand on top of Jackson’s. “Too bad I didn’t meet you before all of this. I could’ve whipped you into shape and shown you the ugly truth about politics.”

  Before he could reply, the waiter returned to the table with their breakfast orders.

  Worry kept Liza silent as she and Jackson ate their savory dishes. For her, the crepes could have been paper. What was Robert’s plan and how did pictures of her with Jackson fall into that plan? What would Chante think? How would Robert spin this story to make it look as if she’d betrayed them again?

  “What’s wrong?” Jackson asked when he noticed her frown.

  “Nothing—nothing that you want to talk about anyway.”

  Jackson leaned over the table, placing his fork beside his plate. “Are you more worried about what this picture means for you or . . .”

  “There you go being patronizing again.” She stabbed her food with her fork.

  “I was simply asking a question. And I’d never patronize you. What harm do you think those pictures are going to do to you?”

  Liza leaned back in her seat and pushed her plate away. “My reputation is all I have. Robert knows that and I know he’s trying to discredit me. Especially with Chante. I tried to show her the pictures of him and that skank, but she wouldn’t even look, and then he goes on and on about me being jealous of the two of them. I thought I had a reason to be happy for them.” She continued to toy with her food since her appetite had disappeared.

  “Maybe you need to let Chante learn her lesson without your help.”

  Liza’s right eyebrow shot up. “And what kind of friend would that make me?”

  “Sometimes, you have to allow people to make their own mistakes,” Jackson said. “If the friendship is real, you guys will find your way back to each other.”

  Liza wiped her face. “Besides Robert, Chante is my oldest friend and I miss her. But I have to wonder what kind of friendship we had if she believes that I would try to ruin her happiness because Robert said so.”

  “Have you talked to her without him around?” Jackson asked, touched by the pain in Liza’s eyes.

  “Nope,”
she said. “Chante seems completely under his spell.”

  “Or maybe she loves him. People get past infidelity, you know. What if Robert has come clean with her and—”

  “He hasn’t done that because she’s still accusing me of stealing her happiness. No, being jealous of her joy or some shit like that. If Robert were the man I thought he was, I’d be leading a parade for this marriage. But he’s going to break her heart.”

  “Maybe that’s a lesson she needs to learn.”

  “Don’t you think that’s a little harsh? If you knew that you could save someone from heartache, you’d just let it happen because they need to learn a lesson?”

  “We’re talking about grown-ups,” he said. “Nothing that’s done in the dark stays hidden that long anyway.”

  “Are you going to be a flashlight?”

  Jackson rolled his eyes and picked up a strip of bacon. “Nope,” he said before taking a huge bite of the salty meat.

  “You can’t fault me for asking,” she said as she picked at her crepes. “I wish I had been warned before I found out about my ex.”

  Jackson stopped chewing. “So,” he said after swallowing, “when you were head over heels in love with your ex, you would’ve listened to anything that anyone said about him that didn’t match with what he said?”

  “You think you know everything, huh?” she quipped.

  “I know human nature and I know that your friend isn’t going to receive your message, pictures or not.”

  Liza pulled out her cell phone to see if Chante had responded to her text message. Nothing. “Well, at least she can’t say she didn’t know when she catches him with another woman on their fifth anniversary.”

  “You sent her the pictures?” Jackson shook his head. “That was not cool.”

  “Throwing away more than ten years of friendship over a lying, disgusting—”

  “You introduced them and you didn’t think he was horrible when you did that.”

  “But I have proof. I walked in on . . . You know what, it is what it is. Now I have to worry about what he’s going to do with the pictures he has of us.”

  Jackson downed his coffee and wanted to brush it off as not being a big deal, but that call from Teresa made him realize that this could be the beginning of a political scandal. What was he supposed to do? Stop getting to know one of the most enlightening women he’d met in a long time?

  “Liza, you’re one of the most unique and driven women I’ve met in years. And in the words of Maxwell, I want to get to know you.”

  Liza’s cheeks heated from his compliment. “That’s a nice thing to say,” she replied. “But how can we do that when you have an election to win?”

  “People make time to do what they want to do all the time, no matter how busy they are.”

  Liza smiled. “I’m sure your campaign manager isn’t going to like this and probably thinks that I’m trying to get inside information from you.”

  Jackson nodded. “She does.”

  Liza blinked. “Jackson, you know that I’m not trying to do that, but don’t you think you need to take things a little more seriously? I’ve heard of the legendary Teresa Flores. She’s not someone who will keep working for you if you don’t follow her edicts. She gets results, and I know these photos aren’t going to make her happy. Maybe it’s best that we . . .”

  “I love Teresa and I know she’s doing her best to get me in this senate seat. But no one is going to tell me what to do in my personal life. If it’s not immoral or illegal, it’s no one’s business.”

  “Except for the public’s and the voters’. I really don’t think you get it, Jackson. Once you hop into the public arena, everything you do is open to scrutiny, judgment, and some twisting by your foes.”

  Jackson squeezed the bridge of his nose just as his phone began to vibrate with text messages. He saw there were messages from the same reporters who’d been lauding him as a hero yesterday. Now, they wanted to know why he was cavorting around town with Liza Palmer. Then came three messages from Teresa. She needed him to get to the campaign office right now.

  “We have to go,” he told Liza as he pulled his wallet out and left enough money on the table to cover the tab and a tip.

  “If this is about the picture, do you think it’s wise for us to be seen together? I’m going to take a cab back to your place and grab my car. You leave and I’ll try to diffuse this from my end as much as I can.”

  “Liza, don’t get involved in this,” Jackson said. “And I’m not going to stop seeing you.”

  “If you want to win, it might be for the best. Besides, we can always have last night.”

  Rising to his feet, Jackson wanted nothing more than to pull Liza into his arms and tell her that one night would never be enough and that he didn’t give a damn about an election. But he did give a damn and he wanted to win. He wanted to win so that he could fight for the military families, for the disenfranchised voters, and the poor people who didn’t have a voice in Raleigh.

  He stopped himself because what Liza had said made sense. And he could hear Teresa telling him that he was thinking with the wrong head.

  “I’ll call you later,” he said, then walked out the door.

  Liza sat at the table and closed her eyes for a moment. Then she called a cab, and as she waited, she typed her name and Jackson’s into the Google search engine. The first link that popped up was the blog she hated the most, QC After Dark. That gossip site was one of the worst, behind MediaTakeOut, in her opinion. Clicking on the link, she read the story with a frown on her face:

  NC senate hopeful Jackson Franklin was seen cavorting around Charlotte with one of his rival’s biggest supporters. Cameras spotted Franklin and Liza Palmer, a PR and social media maven, heading into The Original Pancake House very early this morning. Palmer was recently dismissed from Robert Montgomery’s campaign after she and Dominic Hall, the campaign manager, had a loud argument in the headquarters. Hall told QC After Dark that Palmer threatened to ruin Montgomery by any means. It looks as if Palmer plans to keep that promise.

  “I’m going to kill Nic,” she muttered as she watched a yellow cab pull up in front of the restaurant. Her phone rang and she wasn’t surprised to see that it was Robert.

  “What in the hell do you want?” she snapped.

  “Liza, you need to stop meddling in my life or you’re going to seriously regret it,” Robert hissed.

  Liza laughed. “Are you really threatening me? You’ve lost what’s left of your mind.”

  “Chante believes those pictures were Photoshopped and after seeing who you’re hanging with now, she’s convinced that you’re acting like a jealous girl who couldn’t get what she wanted. Now, we can leave this between us or I can go public and tell the state how you and Franklin are trying to sabotage my campaign because I didn’t want to marry you.”

  “You slimy son of a bitch.”

  “I’m going to win and Chante will be at my side. Stop playing games, Liza, and go back to sending tweets.”

  “You know what I’m finally starting to figure out? You’re a piece of shit and you don’t respect me or any other woman because you’re mad at your crackhead mother. So, you want all of us to suffer. That’s why you hung out with those hood rats in college and it’s probably why you were screwing one in your office. You know Chante is way too good for you and I never wanted anything more than your friendship. Now, you can shove your self-serving bullshit where the—”

  “Liza, all you had to do was mind your business. I was under pressure and I needed a release. You should be glad that I don’t want to treat Chante like a spare piece of ass. You said you believed in me. What else have you been lying about over the years? And for you to turn to this wannabe Rambo. When I win, remember that you could’ve been a part of my team.”

  “Fuck you, Robert!” she shrieked. The only thing that stopped her from tossing the phone across the restaurant was the stares of the patrons who’d heard her outburst. Sighing, she rose from
the table and headed outside to the waiting taxi. She had to make Robert pay—without herself suffering. But when she arrived at Jackson’s to pick up her car, she saw that the damage had already started. Three news trucks were roaming the parking lot like fat land sharks. Two cameramen paced up and down the sidewalk with cigarettes hanging from their lips. Liza rolled her eyes. They act as if the man sent a selfie of his penis to a fifteen-year-old on Twitter, she thought as she paid the driver her cab fare. Stepping out of the car, she fell in with a group of Johnson and Wales students, silently praying that the cameramen wouldn’t see her. Just when she thought that she’d made it, she heard someone say, “Isn’t that the Palmer chick?”

  She hated the media! The two cameramen rushed over to her with two reporters in tow. Seconds later microphones were shoved in her face.

  “Miss Palmer, Miss Palmer,” a reporter called out. “What’s going on with you and candidate Franklin?”

  “I don’t have a comment right now,” she said, attempting to shield her face from the camera and keep her calm.

  “Are you still working on Montgomery’s campaign?”

  “No comment,” she said, then pushed past them, ignoring the questions being lobbed at her. Liza knew she couldn’t go to her car until the media left. After all, video of her leaving Jackson’s complex would add more fuel to the smoldering fire. She hated Robert right now. Wanted him to simply drop dead. She walked up the street for about five blocks and happily entered Starbucks. Though she probably needed tea, she ordered a venti cup of Italian roast and skipped the cream and sugar. She sat in a corner and glanced at the people walking down the sidewalk. Why couldn’t she be an anonymous banker? What if she had stayed in corporate America? Her life wouldn’t be such a mess. And this too will pass, she thought as she toyed with her cup of coffee. After four refills on her coffee, Liza got tired of hiding. Tired of acting as if she’d done something wrong. She was Liza Palmer. She handled scandals; she didn’t cause them or run from them. It wasn’t as if she was sleeping with the president. And Robert had one more time to try and spin that yarn about her being jealous because she wasn’t his fiancée and she’d hurt him. Why had she turned a blind eye to his dark side all of those years ago? He’d been a brilliant student, but a player when it came to women. He’d treated women with a cold disregard after getting what he wanted from them. Maybe that was why he focused on the hood rats. Just like with her father, he wanted to mold his woman into what he expected her to be for his image. She’d seen it but ignored it because he was her friend. Because she needed someone to believe in. She walked out of the coffee shop and decided that she wasn’t going to hide anymore. And she wasn’t going to give the media the show they wanted either. Arriving at Jackson’s place, she was glad to see that the media was gone. She hopped into her car and drove home. It was time to plan her rebuttal.