Red blotches on Sheldon’s face deepened as he realized all eyes were on him. Based on the fact that he couldn’t stand Dominic, Sheldon took a stab at it and guessed the silent insinuation and intense staring contest had been initiated by Dominic.
Sheldon hopped up from his seat. The legs of the chair wobbled, as he forcefully pushed it from under him with the backs of his thighs. He leaned into Dominic—who sat directly across from him—and pointed into his face. “What are you trying to imply?”
Dominic said evenly, “Get your hand out of my face.”
Monty snapped, “Somebody in this goddamn room has been feeding the motherfuckin’ press, and I want to know who it is!”
Nothing.
He eyed everyone in the room. “Oh, now you all are fuckin’ quiet. None of you have anything to say, but you couldn’t shut the fuck up when you were in the alleyway with the goddamn reporter! I swear, every day it’s one slanderous report after another, after another. Apparently, someone in here is going out of their way to ruin my bid for reelection.” He shook his head. “I just read this today: ‘A source close to the governor says there is proof of backroom dealings and unorthodox financial practices with ICC.’ Really? Where’s the proof? If you have it, produce it.” He paused. “Whoever the source is, speak up! ’Cause we will not go anywhere until the leak is snuffed out. And I’ll sit here all goddamn day and night. Believe me. I refuse to go another day with people who are supposed to be on my team, yet who are being disloyal and stabbing me in the back.” He paused again, his words dangling in the air. “I’m waiting.”
All eyes traveled back to Sheldon.
Sheldon snapped, “How dare you, Dominic! You’re trying to set me up and pin this on me! I’m more than loyal to the governor! I’ve had his back since he was a city councilman.”
Dominic tugged at his tie, loosening it from around his neck. He snorted and snidely looked Sheldon over. “First of all, Sheldon, I told you to get your hand out of my face. This is not that little Las Vegas trailer park you grew up in, so I’m warning you, back the fuck up. Furthermore, I don’t insinuate. I say what I have to say, and I haven’t said anything, yet. So perhaps it’s guilt that has you acting so erratic.”
“I’m not acting erratic, and I don’t have anything to feel guilty about, but maybe you do. I didn’t arrange any of those meetings with ICC, but you did.” He paused, giving the room a moment to consider his words. “And I wasn’t copied on any emails or memos with ICC, but I’ll bet you were.”
“You’re right,” Dominic said. “But you took the notes, and it was your responsibility to keep the files. Now, where are your notes, Sheldon?”
“They’re where they are supposed to be, in the file cabinets.”
“Funny how I looked for them this morning and they weren’t there,” Dominic said.
“What do you mean, they weren’t there?”
“I didn’t see one thing concerning ICC, including copies of contracts, memos, emails.”
Sheldon pointed to Rebecca, his counterpart, who sat at the far end of the oblong table where they all gathered. He retook his seat as he said, “Aren’t you responsible for the ICC files?”
Rebecca’s blue eyes popped, and she shot Sheldon an icy glare. She didn’t agree with Dominic on much, but she agreed with him that Sheldon was a bitch, and that had nothing to do with the secret boyfriend he’d tucked away in K-town. Sheldon was a bitch because he lied, whined, complained, and never accepted responsibility for anything. And one thing Rebecca knew for sure, Sheldon was not the type to go down alone; hence the accusation he’d just hurled her way. But. What Sheldon didn’t know, or seemed to have forgotten, was that Rebecca stayed armed with a boomerang.
Rebecca swallowed the urge to grab Sheldon by what little was left of his hair and drag him across the table. Instead she sat up completely straight, crossed her legs, and said, “So, I see you’re lying and crying again, Sheldon. And we all know what it means when you drop tears; you’re doing your best to take the spotlight off you. You know damn well I never touch those files. That is your responsibility. So, why would you want to blame missing paperwork on me? Hmm . . . Well, let’s see . . . Could it be that everyone knows when it comes to the media and the governor’s office, that you are Mr. Anonymous?”
Sheldon shouted, “You are a liar!”
Rebecca arched her blond brows and continued. “That whole little story that just ran last week, where someone said”—she made air quotes—“that Dominic Sparks was a paranoid schizophrenic who threw the rock, hid his tiny hands, and engaged in multiple pissing contests with anyone he considered to be getting too close to the governor. And that Dominic was so petty and small minded, he went as far as to recommend firing the communications director because she mumbled, as you so grandly announced to us in a bullshit emergency meeting”—under her breath—“ ‘The governor needed to go and screw himself.’”
“And I never said that,” Carmen, the communications director, added.
Rebecca continued, “How would the media know any of that? Huh? I think it’s because you’re the Bruce Wayne of Can’t-Shut-the-Fuck Up!”
“Rebecca, you are out of line! All of that is nothing but a shitload of lies!” Sheldon looked over to Monty, whose eyes burned through him. Monty then looked at Rebecca. “I’ve heard enough.”
Rebecca carried on, “And let us not forget about how you, Sheldon, raked Thomas Jones, the head of Port Authority, through the media coals for weeks and accused him of all kinds of shit. And according to the watercooler posse, your homies, it’s because Thomas wouldn’t suck your dick!”
Sheldon lunged out of his chair and aimed for Rebecca. Van rushed over and pushed him back, while Monty hopped up and snapped, “The hell are you doing? I tell you what, you’re fired!” He looked over at Rebecca. “And you’re out of here too!”
Sheldon and Rebecca both stood stunned.
Monty continued, “As far as I’m concerned, both of you are the problem! And in an effort to outdo one another, you’re getting me caught up in your bullshit! Leaking to the press! Sheldon can’t find his notes, and suddenly, Rebecca, you don’t know where the ICC files are?”
“I swear to God, they were in the file cabinets! I never moved them!”
“Then where are they?” Dominic asked. “Because I checked, and nothing is there.”
Before Rebecca could respond, Monty said, “You two must think I’m stupid!”
Sheldon gasped. “Governor—”
“No, Sheldon, I don’t want to hear it. Things that shouldn’t have ever been leaked are all over the press. Things that only you two knew, and now this? This proves to me that you two are the leaks.”
“Governor,” Rebecca said in desperation, “the files—there are duplicates.”
Monty frowned. “I don’t want to hear or see any duplicates. I want the originals, and unless you can produce those for me, then Security will be escorting you out of here.”
Silence.
“That’s what I thought.” Monty looked over at Van. “Get them the fuck out my face!” Monty pushed the intercom button on the phone that sat in the middle of the table and connected directly to his secretary. “Annette, effective immediately Rebecca and Sheldon have been fired. You are to write up two resignation letters on their behalf. And have their things packed up and delivered to the lobby.”
“No problem, Governor,” Annette said.
Monty continued, “I feel like I’m running a daycare center in here where nobody can shut the fuck up. Files are suddenly missing. Notes are missing. How can I run a state government like this? Or is that the goal—one of you wants my seat? Maybe I need to be asking who the hell you all voted for, because judging by this here shit, clearly it wasn’t a vote for me! You hear me, Annette!”
“Yes, sir.”
Monty looked over at his communications director. “Carmen, I need you to set up a press release for this morning, so I can put a lid on this shit.” Carmen nodded in agreement
.
Monty looked around the stupefied room and said, as evenly as possible, “Now, all of you, if you would be so kind as to get the hell out, I would appreciate it.” He looked over at Dominic. “Not you.”
Once he and Dominic were the only two in the room, Monty said, “I need a drink.”
“No,” Dominic said. “You need a lawyer.”
Before Monty could respond, Annette buzzed in through the intercom. “Governor—”
“Annette, I need a minute. Dominic and I were in the middle of something.”
“I apologize for the interruption, but Mr. Stephen Himes is on line one, and Sergeant Martin is on line two, both insisting they must speak with you right away.”
“Take a message from them both.”
“I suggested that, but Mr. Himes says a message isn’t an option. And Sergeant Martin says it’s extremely important and added that he’s been trying to reach you to no avail.”
“That’s what they all say. Put Martin through to me. Send Himes to my voice mail.”
Brggg!
“Sergeant Martin,” Monty said, “how are you today?”
“I’m fine. And yourself?”
“All is well. So, what can I help you with?”
“I’m calling because there was an incident that happened at the station yesterday that I think you should be aware of.”
“Really? And what was that?”
“Are you familiar with a Miss Pryce?”
Chapter 32
Lorenz
“I want to hear everything.” Sydney Briggs, the editor-in-chief of First Look Journal, smiled as she cupped a steamy mug of coffee. She walked through the buzzing newsroom, into her all-glass office; Lorenz was a step behind her. She sat at her desk and pointed to the chair facing her. “Have a seat, and don’t leave out a single detail.” Her brown eyes gleamed as she looked over her mug’s brim and parted the steam with a soft blow. “Start from the moment you stepped into the charity event, how was it?”
Lorenz leaned back in the chair. “It was”—he smiled and stared off into the distance—“all right, sweet even.”
Sydney frowned. “Sweet?” She sat her mug down. “What the hell does that mean? You were on assignment. Not at some New Edition, Xscap3, throwback nineties concert, or on a date. Shit like that is sweet. A crooked governor and his wife using a foundation as a cover is not sweet. So, don’t give me that. Give me details, who was there? What were they doing? Any secret meetings? Any new sources? Don’t give me sweet; give me a story. Otherwise, I can assign you to the classified section, pun intended.”
Lorenz chuckled. “Cute. But you and I both know you want this exposé just as bad as I do.”
“Get to the point. What happened?”
“Let’s start with Stephen Himes, head of ICC. He made a sizeable donation.”
“How much?”
“They conveniently didn’t say.”
“None of your sources knew?”
“One. He said he’ll try and get a picture of the check and send it to me. But of course the check is only a small portion of what the foundation really gets. The rest is cash.”
“Of course; then there’s no trace.”
“They claimed to have raised five point seven million dollars.”
“Which we both know is bullshit. I’m sure it’s double that amount.”
“I’m sure. Now you know the teacher we’ve been checking out?”
“Yeah, the governor’s mistress—well, alleged mistress.” Sydney made air quotes. “What about her?” She picked up her coffee and took a sip.
“She was there.”
Sydney chuckled. “The mistress was at the wife’s fund-raiser? Either they are all in this together or some major shit is about to jump off. So, were some eyeballs seconds from being scratched out?”
“Nah, Brooklyn’s a little too together to be clawing eyeballs out, at least in public.”
“Brooklyn?” Sydney said, taken aback. “So, you’re on a first-name basis with the First Ho?”
Lorenz frowned. “Why does she have to be the First Ho? That’s a little harsh. She’s beautiful. Smart. Funny. Not a ho.”
Sydney raised one brow, then the other.
“I was just making a point,” Lorenz said.
“Sounds more like you were pleading her anti-ho case. You do know you went there to work, right?”
“Of course, Sydney.”
“So, then why do I get the feeling that Brooklyn is what was so sweet?”
Lorenz pulled in a thought, then sat up straight. “I have no idea.” He shrugged.
“Don’t give me that. Give me particulars. Obviously, you got to speak with her. How did that happen?”
“She walked over to the bar where I was and sat down next to me. I swear, it was like she was hand-delivered.”
“And?”
“We talked.”
“Is she viable?”
“Yes and no. I couldn’t get much out of her, but the strangest thing happened. The governor interrupted our conversation to approach her.”
“Are you shittin’ me?”
“Nope.”
“What did he say?”
“They walked out of earshot, so I couldn’t hear, but I was able to get a few pics.” He pulled out his phone and handed it to his boss.
Sydney scanned through the pictures, then said as she pointed to the last one, “Why is he holding her wrist like this?”
“Good question. All I know is she turned to walk away and he snatched her back. When she walked back over to the bar where I was, I took a chance and asked if they were together.”
“And?”
“She lied. Said she’d never met him before.”
Sydney paused. “Who did you tell her you were?”
“She didn’t ask.”
“And you didn’t volunteer anything?”
He frowned. “Who volunteers the lie before it’s needed? She denied knowing the governor. I let it ride and we moved on.”
“And you don’t think she was suspicious?”
“Nah.”
“You sound pretty confident; what else happened?”
“We danced. Laughed a little. It was her birthday. I ended up taking her home, and I got a chance to scope out her place.”
“Her place? Taking her home is one thing, but you went inside? What were you doing inside?” She paused. “You didn’t sleep with her, did you?”
“Come on, Syd.”
“I’m serious.”
“No. She had a little too much to drink, and I wanted to be sure she got in safely. That’s it. I told her I would see myself out, and she ended up falling asleep before I left.”
“Let me remind you, Lorenz Graham, your job is to get to the truth, find out the facts, and put it out there for the world to see, not make yourself part of the story.”
“I know that.”
She stared at him. Obviously thinking one thing, but deciding to say another. “Tell me what you found.”
“Nothing, really. Came up empty.”
“Damn.”
“But there is one other thing that’s interesting. Remember the old El Dorado warehouse that ICC won the so-called bidding war for?”
“Yeah, they knocked it down and built high-end brownstones.”
“Exactly. Well, guess who lives in one?”
“The mistress?”
“Bingo. And from our conversation, her family isn’t wealthy, and her kid’s father doesn’t help her out. So, there’s no way she can afford that place. I think the governor gave it to her because ICC gave it to him.”
“Right. But what is ICC getting in exchange for the donations and the gifts?”
“That’s what I’m trying to find out.”
“And you think the mistress is going to lead you to finding that answer.” She nodded in approval. “Good job. Have you made any arrangements to speak with her again?”
“Not yet. Plus, I don’t want to be too forward and freak her out.”
“Umm-hmm.” Sydney looked at him suspiciously.
“Besides, something tells me she wants to be as far away from Governor Fields as possible, so I don’t know how viable she’ll be in the long run.”
“What makes you think that?”
“Her body language when I questioned her about knowing him. She tensed up. Clearly she didn’t want to discuss him.”
“I wish you could’ve dragged more out of her, but it sounds like you can take what you have and combine it with what you have on the investigation and have another story for me this morning. Say nine o’clock.”
“Nine o’clock? It’s eight. I need a little more time than that—”
“Of course. Nine thirty.”
Knock, knock
Sydney looked over to the doorway where her secretary stood. “Yes, Julia. May I help you?”
“Well, actually, I’m here for Lorenz.”
Lorenz turned around. “What’s up, Jules?”
“There’s a Sheldon Gonzales in the lobby. He’s asking for you.”
Chapter 33
Brooklyn
For two days, she’d struggled to shake the feel of Lorenz’s touch.
Everywhere she went was his scent. Warm cinnamon, Indian patchouli, and a touch of mint.
She could hear his voice. Deep. Smooth. Commanding, with a gentle edge.
His eyes: dark, sensual, filled with a million stories yet to be told.
His smile lit up the room.
But...
She’d only known him for three days and was convinced that falling for him this fast was tied to some unseen force and fucked up decision that she’d later regret.
Brooklyn sat on the edge of her mahogany desk and took in her classroom.
Her students’ empty desks were in three rows of five. Posters of African-American heroes, from Harriet Tubman to Barack Obama, hung on beige walls. Large windows framed the room, with green blossoming plants on each ledge. Affirmations of Black brilliance framed the smart board.
I should call him.
No.
She bit softly into her bottom lip.
What am I doing?
She looked around her classroom again and glanced at the clock.
8:17 a.m.
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