by Sandra Kitt
“Not that I know of,” Jean said.
Brad moved forward quickly, his hand stretched out. “Hey, Patrick. Good to see you, man. I’m Brad Clark, PR director for the mayor. I have a serious bromance going with REPLAY. Great show.”
“I appreciate that,” Patrick responded in his engaging professional persona.
The men shook hands.
“I don’t believe we had a chance to introduce ourselves when you were last here. Don’t tell me you won the lottery again?” Brad looked briefly at Jean.
Patrick laughed easily, but Jean was happy that he didn’t give her any particular attention.
“No, I think I’ve had my share of good luck for one lifetime. Sorry I didn’t call in advance. I’m in the city for meetings. I stopped by hoping to see Ms. Travis, if she can spare a few minutes.”
“Not at all. I’m in the middle of arranging a meeting myself, so I’ll leave you two. Ms. Travis, you have a guest.” Brad made a grand gesture with his hand to usher Patrick into the office. “I’ll let you know when the mayor is leaving for Queens,” Brad finished, leaving them.
Jean and Patrick faced each other. She immediately saw a kind of longing in his gray eyes now that they were alone. She tried not to let her gaze mirror his. One of them had to stay focused.
“Trying to surprise me again?” she said in a quiet voice.
“If it means you’ll look at me the way you are now, yeah.”
“I’m at work. There are people all over the place. The door is open…”
“I know you have a point, but…”
Patrick turned and leaned out the open door. He looked up and down the corridor. There was no one around and few sounds of any kind. He turned back to her and, taking her hand, maneuvered her behind the door while letting it stay open.
“Patrick…” she warned.
He placed a finger over her lips. And then he replaced the finger with his mouth, in a sensuously slow kiss that curled the muscles of her stomach as his tongue searched for hers. But Jean wouldn’t let him draw her into an embrace. That was definitely playing with fire. The kiss would have to do for now. There was something deliciously illicit about kissing on the sly, behind a door. At city hall.
Anyone might walk in at any moment.
The mayor.
Their lips separated. Jean moistened hers, holding in his warmth. She moved back into the center of the room. She absently fidgeted with her hair. Patrick followed her, sweeping both hands through his own hair. He cleared his throat.
“I needed that,” he murmured. “But I really do want to discuss some business with you.”
“You mean, that wasn’t just an excuse so we could canoodle in secret?”
“I know how to take advantage of any opportunity presented to me.”
Jean gave him a half-sultry smile and returned to sit at her desk. “I’m glad. Sit down. What can I do for you?” His brows shot up at her double entendre. “I mean…”
Patrick grinned at her and then took hold of a very uncomfortable institutional-like chair and placed it as close to hers as the setting would allow.
He grew serious, and as long as there was still no one around, his expression and his voice became personal.
“It’s been almost a week.”
“It’s been two days.”
“It’s killing me.”
Jean smothered a giggle. “You’ll survive. You said you have a Peloton. Work it off.”
Patrick shook his head and sighed comically. “You’re a hard, cold woman.”
Jean’s smile grew understanding and earnest. “I’ve missed you too.”
“What are we going to do about it?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “But you can’t stay over tonight.”
“I can’t stay over tonight. Seriously.”
They were momentarily silent, dealing with the frustration of the situation and disappointment for the evening.
“So you had something you wanted to tell me?”
“I guess it could have waited. I took a chance coming to your office, hoping that…”
“Yes.”
“…I could at least take you to lunch.”
“That would have been lovely.”
“I had a meeting this morning with Ross Franklin.”
Jean smiled, pleased that Patrick was taking her advice.
“Really? How did that go?”
“Well, I think.” Patrick shrugged. He didn’t seem conflicted in any way about the meeting or Ross. “He knew quite a lot about me. It was a bit unnerving. Like he’d put PIs out on my trail. Like I’m an open book.”
“I’m sure he never did that. He made sure he was prepared to see you. That’s a good thing, isn’t it?”
“Of course, but he managed to dig pretty deep.”
“Anything for you to be seriously worried about?”
He lowered his gaze, frowning slightly. His jaw muscle tensed. “I don’t think so. Just the usual foolishness of my testosterone twenties.” His gaze held hers. “I’d also done my own research.”
Jean swallowed, feeling heat infuse her body, flush her cheeks. “Okay.”
“By all accounts he’s got a great reputation in the field.”
“I told you so.”
“But there was nothing really personal. Like, is he married? Does he like sports? Is he gay?”
“I’m not sure any of that is relevant. You just want to make sure he’s honest, has never been in a scandal or indicted for fraud.”
“And I do have your say-so that he’s an okay guy.”
Jean looked down at her hands, unconsciously clenched into nervous fists. “You do. Maybe you should ask Ross if you could speak to some of his clients.”
“I’ll think about it.”
Jean saw again his personal interest softening his gaze. The business part of his visit was over, but she still felt very vulnerable about information she’d not shared with him. He leaned toward her.
“Mind if I ask why tonight isn’t possible?”
“I’m going out to Queens with the mayor in a little while. It’s a neighborhood rally, and the mayor is throwing his support behind a candidate for city council. I set up all the local press and media, worked with community leaders. The mayor typically arrives just as he’s supposed to speak, and he’s out of there in under thirty minutes. Then I take care of reversing the process, making sure the copy is going to be positive on the news tonight and tomorrow. That sort of thing. What about you? Tonight?”
Patrick sighed. “I’m having dinner with ‘the boys.’ Brian and Pete and some of the crew. My idea. I think it’s important to have real downtime to chill, talk off the record, tell dirty jokes or secrets. Women do it.”
“Well, we’re more evolved than the male of the species in all relationship matters,” she teased.
Patrick narrowed his gaze. “You’re going to pay for that. Here’s a thought. I’m meeting the guys at eight or so. And I’m making sure it’s Dutch treat…”
“I think that’s a healthy idea.”
“Any chance I can come with you out to Queens? I’d like to see the mayor in action. I’d like to see you do that thing you do when you’re working.”
“You can’t be serious. It takes more time to set up and take down than what the mayor will have to say.” He watched her and waited. “I…I don’t know. I could ask Brad, if you’re serious. But I don’t want your appearance to turn the event into a photo op or unwanted publicity for you.”
“Not what I intend.”
“The mayor will not be too happy to have attention deflected away from him.”
“Got it.”
“Okay, I’ll ask.”
* * *
Patrick made it easy for no one to object to him tagging along with the city hall team. He had his
own transportation and only needed permission to follow the mayor’s caravan to Queens. He made no mention of Jean going to bat for him with her boss, in case anyone asked. He could see there was already a lot of speculation about what, exactly, was the nature of their relationship. He and Jean hadn’t really defined it. In any case, it was too soon to go public. But the idea made Patrick realize it deserved serious thought.
What was their relationship? What did he want it to be?
It was one thing for him to deflect all the media speculation about almost every aspect of his life because that was the nature of being a public figure. But Jean had never bargained on becoming tabloid fodder. He wanted to protect her from that. Patrick lifted a corner of his mouth at the irony of the situation. The mayor’s office and the mayor himself were always up for grabs for news copy.
Patrick did as he was told, and enjoyed that no one cared who he was and that he wasn’t recognized. The anonymity gave him a kind of freedom that was hard to come by. Besides, he liked discreetly trailing behind Jean and watching her perform her duties as PR assistant director. She was great with the locals in the community, approaching people, smiling a genuinely warm hello, and introducing herself, then asking people What do you think the mayor should be doing for your neighborhood?
Jean wore a navy, sleeveless dress that buttoned down the front, paired with a thin red belt. It did two things for her: made her look professional so that she stood out and made her look down-to-earth…so that she didn’t stand out when that was needed.
She smiled easily but, as was her way, never got too familiar, so the crowd also kept her at a respectful distance, so she could circulate and do her job. And she was just as communicative with her own staff, coordinating who they needed to work with from the community board. She made sure that everything was in order for the mayor’s appearance, and spoke with the local precinct commander to make sure there was enough police presence to deter potential outbursts or protests.
It was a lot of responsibility for one pretty, small, amazingly self-possessed woman whose natural comfort zone was staying under the radar. Patrick admired Jean even more, seeing her on top of her game. He also felt a growing satisfaction, a contentment he got whenever he was with Jean. Patrick suddenly considered how important that had become for him.
“You with the mayor’s office?”
Patrick didn’t think the question was directed at him until he realized there was a tiny Asian gentlemen peering up at him from beneath an umbrella he was using to block the bright summer sun.
“Er…no. But maybe I can help you anyway.”
“You look like you someone in charge.”
“Thank you. Maybe it’s my sunglasses.”
The man stared blankly for a moment and then began to laugh merrily as the joke registered. He shook his head. “No, no. You tall. Tall, thin men always in charge. My wife say I not in charge. Too short.” He began to laugh again.
Patrick joined in, enjoying the odd encounter. Then he saw Jean approaching, her gaze puzzled by the laughing exchange between him and the man with the umbrella.
“Here’s just the person you need to speak with,” Patrick said, indicating Jean. “This gentleman wants to speak with someone from the mayor’s office.”
“Someone in charge,” the man corrected, beaming at Jean. “Too pretty. Not in charge. Not the mayor!”
And he was off again in a round of merry laughter.
Patrick met Jean’s silent question. What’s going on?
“I’m sure she can be of help. She knows everything.”
“Ooh.” The man nodded. “Smart too?”
“Very.” Patrick smiled warmly at her. “I’ll leave you two. Good luck,” he wished the man. He raised his sunglasses so he could wink at Jean.
He walked away, circulating the area of folding chairs set up auditorium fashion, which was filling up with men, women, and children of at least half a dozen different ethnicities. Pop-up vendors and food trucks were kept at a distance from the gathering space and the podium set up for the mayor. Police barriers were also positioned to help control crowds and keep those not sitting from getting too close to the mayor, his staff, the press crews.
He purchased a cold drink from a woman selling frosty bottled water and canned soda from a cooler. He sipped thoughtfully as he realized he was finally beginning to relax a little after the meeting and interview with Ross Franklin and the continuing buzz in his head about his ex-wife. He took a long, cold gulp of his drink, trying to freeze out the troubling thoughts. He found Brad standing alone, reviewing messages on his cell phone and following an agenda on a tablet. “How’s it going?” Brad asked absently.
“How often do these events take place?”
“If you’re asking the PR office, too often. If you ask folks in the communities in all five boroughs, not enough. There’s always someone somewhere who feels left out. The mayor is not paying enough attention to what’s going on.”
“True? False? A myth?”
Brad sighed. “There are eight and a half million people in the naked city…what do you think?”
“That you’re probably not being paid enough for what you do.”
Brad chuckled and glanced at him. “Care to put in a good word for the mayor’s hardworking team?”
“I try never to get involved in family situations,” he grinned. Brad chuckled again.
“So…how are you and our girl Jean making out?”
Patrick adjusted his glasses, glanced around at the gathering neighborhood people, the officials, and police, taking his time to assess the question.
“Is that idle curiosity, or a response to office gossip?”
Brad went back to perusing his two devices. “Okay, guilty. Sorry about that. Jean is really respected, and she works really hard. We all sort of feel a little protective of her, know what I mean?”
“Totally.” He met Brad’s questioning gaze straight on. “So I would never do anything to hurt that…or Jean. I know I have a profile and maybe even a reputation that comes with my profession. But if she’s okay hanging with me, I think that says enough. We’ve known each other a long time.”
“I didn’t mean to imply…”
“Yeah, you did, and that’s okay. I care about her too.”
Brad nodded, then stared at him. “Look, I want to suggest something. The mayor thought it was a good idea to do some sort of charity event, the money collected going into our programs and services for the homeless. Would you consider helping us? It would mean putting your name on it as maybe a sponsor. That’s all you’d have to do.”
“What’s the event?”
“A bike race… Well, it’s not really a race. There will be a starting point, and the finish line will be at Battery Park. There will not be winners, but everyone crossing the finish line gets…”
“A T-shirt and a baseball cap.”
Brad laughed, shaking his head. “No, no. That’s so yesterday. You get a T-shirt and certificate, signed by the mayor. And snacks. It’s a great cause and a good way to supplement what doesn’t come from the city budget. There’s always a shortfall for some programs. We do the best we can. By the way, the entire office is signed up to ride, if that makes a difference.”
“And each rider or team can solicit sponsorship to see how much money they earn to contribute?”
“Correct.”
Suddenly there were shouts and cheers and applause…and a short siren blast of warning from the top of a patrol car. The crowd was ordered to make way for several arriving black Escalade SUVs, carrying the mayor and his staff.
“I have to go,” Brad said.
“I’ll let you know,” Patrick called after him, as Brad hurried away.
Patrick looked around, trying to locate Jean. Not seeing her, he made his way to the front and side of the area set up for the mayor to speak. He stood as
far back and out of the way as he could. A Black officer approached, indicating that he should move along, that he couldn’t stand where he was.
“No problem,” Patrick said.
“Wait. Excuse me…”
Patrick turned back to the officer, who was studying him closely, a slight frown between his eyes.
“Hey. You’re the guy from that TV show.”
“Want to give me a better hint?” Patrick grinned.
“It’s about sports. What’s it called again? Oh man. I watch that show. It’s…it’s…REPLAY! That’s it.” He snapped his fingers a few times. “Patrick…Bennett!”
“Officer…” Patrick held out his hand.
“Jackson. Nice to meet you, man.”
“Sorry I’m in the way. I’ll go find a seat.”
“You have a few minutes. Wow, if I’d known you were going to be here…”
“No one knows I’m here. I’m incognito.”
The officer chuckled. “You need to work on that. I recognized you right away. I would love to talk to you about a Little League team I coach. My daughter’s team. They could use a little help, if you get my meaning. How can I reach your people? I could send in a proposal or whatever.”
Patrick blinked, trying to think fast. Ross had told him point-blank not to say yes to anything right away. Build in let me think about it time. He looked past the officer and saw Jean approaching.
“I tell you what, Officer Jackson…”
Jean stood next to him and smiled at the officer.
“Can I help with anything? I’m Jean Travis, from the mayor’s office.”
“Officer, if you get in touch with Ms. Travis, I’m sure she’ll be happy to pass along your proposal to me. Will that work?”
“Awesome! Yes, sir, and thank you!”
Jean pulled a business card from the pocket of her dress and passed it to the officer. “I look forward to hearing from you.”
The officer put the card away and turned to the security team surrounding the mayor as he made his way to the podium. There were sufficient cheering and whistles to constitute a real welcome. The mayor, shirtsleeves rolled up, sunglasses on, took his place at the podium. Jean looked at the time on her cell.
