Flic knew she was right but rolled her eyes regardless; hearing this from a pope-loving Catholic was not helping.
“It’s not me talking now, Flic. It’s Anna the marketing and publicist specialist. Promote the message, we stay away from all the other crap, and the book will promote itself.”
A heat rose between them, and Flic realized Anna was practically kneeling between her legs. Not convinced she could make a sound, she whispered, “I thought I was only ever talking to the professional Anna.”
“What?”
“Do I ever see the real you?”
Anna went to move away, but Flic caught her hands and pulled her back to her knees.
“You hate me because of my sexuality and my book.”
Anna’s eyes popped wide open. “I don’t hate you. Not at all.”
“You’re so guarded around me.”
“I’m trying to be professional.”
“And I’m trying to be your friend.”
“Our relationship is professional, Flic.”
“I like you.” It was out before Flic had a chance to engage her filter.
This time Anna moved to the opposite side of the room. “To hear that is beyond confusing.”
“Confusing?” It wasn’t the response Flic had expected. She imagined Anna might have used the words repulsive, ridiculous, or downright offensive, but confusing?
“I know you like me.” Anna was barely audible.
“And that’s confusing for you?” Flic’s hand covered her mouth. Realization dawned. “What are you trying to say?”
“Nothing. I just think for the sake and ease of this tour, we should remain professional, colleagues, you know, keep everything aboveboard.”
“Is there a chance it can go below board?”
“What? No, of course not.”
Flic stood tall. “I challenge everything you believe in, don’t I?”
Anna was calming down. “Perhaps you do.”
She turned to leave the room. “Good.”
Chapter Twelve
The press release Anna drafted firmly sold the message that love is love and that Felicity, together with Griffin’s, in no way condoned the violence that was being threatened on social media. She sought advice from the police and lawyers in relation to some of the wording, but their angle remained clear and concise. Some extremists attempted to argue the view that if love was love, was it okay for man to lie with a beast or a child if they truly loved them. There was no requirement for Anna to make a statement regarding this. Supporters on social media shut down those conversations quickly and efficiently. After the troublemakers had their fun and the conversation became too intellectually difficult for them, what remained were two distinct camps: pro choice supporters—Catholic or otherwise—citing that a pope’s sexuality held no bearing on his ability to perform his duties, and the other side that felt the church should be protected at all costs. The latter appeared to be a combination of pro-Catholic supporters and antigay supporters, Catholic or otherwise.
It hurt Anna to see the sadness in Flic’s eyes when she realized her book had been the catalyst for the social media frenzy.
In a way, she envied Flic and her simplistic view of the world. Love is love, sex is sex, black is black, and white is white. Although when she thought deeply about it, in reality, Flic’s views weren’t simplistic and they weren’t black-and-white. Felicity Bastone embraced gray. She likened her to someone floating down a long river where every adjacent river was a possibility, an opportunity awaiting exploration. Anna wondered what her river might look like. More like a canal in England, she concluded, interrupted by low-lying bridges and loch after loch, hindering her progress and posing the question: Was it worth it to go through the loch, or should she simply tie to the shore and be content with never moving forward?
Not only was Anna questioning where she was going, she was now questioning exactly who she was.
*
It took a double take before Flic recognized Max entering the dining room the following morning at breakfast. He was cleanly shaven, and his mop-like hair was now only a few centimeters long and styled with product. He wore a smart white shirt and dark denim jeans.
Flic whistled. “Hello, sailor.”
“Morning, love. Thought I’d better smarten up for work.” He selected a massive bowl of yogurt and fruit with two mugs of coffee. “So, we’re Belfast bound today?”
Flic nodded. “Should be interesting.”
“You worried?” Anna spoke as she took up a seat at the table.
Flic regarded her closely. “Morning.” She smiled awkwardly.
“Morning.” Anna did the same, and Max glanced between them several times.
“I’m taking a wander through town this morning if you fancy coming along?” said Max.
Max didn’t look like the shopping type, and when he shot a reassuring nod in Anna’s direction, Flic knew there was a conspiracy at play.
She really wanted to call their bluff though, tell them she didn’t need anyone facilitating a bogus shopping trip to get her out of the hotel, but the fact was she couldn’t say that because it wasn’t true. Since the incident in Grafton Street, she’d balked at any talk of exploring the city or playing tourist. Anna had assured her with a hat and dark sunglasses, no one would know who she was, but it simply felt easier to stay in seclusion. It wasn’t like Flic to be so intimidated, and she found the whole thing unnerving.
Anna pushed her egg back and forth before finally addressing Flic. “Our Belfast gig is going ahead as scheduled. Today.”
“What? I thought things were postponed for a couple of days?”
“Dee wants to get back into it while the press is still keen.”
Dee changed her mind like the wind. Flic couldn’t keep up with what Dee bloody well wanted. What about what she wanted? “What about those idiots out there? What if they’re still keen?” Flic began to sweat under her arms. She could feel the uncomfortable heat radiate from her chest to the crown of her head.
Without hesitation, Max reassuringly touched Flic’s shoulder. “This afternoon will be different. We’ve learnt from the Grafton Street experience so there’s no need to worry. You can trust me, okay?”
Flic was far from convinced. “I trust you, Max. It’s those other thugs out there with complete disrespect for my personal space that I don’t trust. Some of these people are fanatical, too, you know, not just rent-a-crowd twats with nothing better to do before their mummies put dinner on the table.”
“Max is liaising with the police, who’ve assured us they’ll have a presence at the bookstore, but you have to understand, Flic, this is about book sales and exposure. We need to maximize this for the next week or so. The Vatican can’t sit on this much longer. We need you back in the saddle.” Anna certainly appeared convincing, but she didn’t sound it.
Flic struggled to keep her nerves in check. “Fine. Then let’s go. The sooner we get to Belfast the better.” She left breakfast hastily, just as her appetite had left her only a minute before.
The drive from Dublin to Belfast on the M1 motorway took only two hours, mostly spent in silence, and by the time they arrived, Flic felt ill from the pungent deodorizer the car hire company had obviously felt the need to spray in copious volumes.
They arrived by lunchtime and Flic disappeared to her room. The schedule swapping back and forth unnerved her, and she needed time to psyche herself up for another reading, more questions, and possibly another confrontation. With the slight chance her hotel could be targeted again, Anna had arranged an alternative, and while it was old, it was certainly comfortable enough. Dark timber and effective lighting somehow made it homey.
At three o’clock, dressed in dark olive green chinos, a white T-shirt, and black blazer, Flic answered the knock at her door. Max, dressed in all black, and Anna, wearing a black pantsuit and a pink shirt, greeted her. Black clothing seemed the order of the day. Flic liked to hide behind it. It was the only color that seemed to eas
e her sense of vulnerability.
“Ready to roll?” Anna’s eyes focused on the small empty bottle of vodka on the coffee table. “Are you okay?”
The vodka had worked its magic when, five minutes earlier, Flic drank it in one gulp. “I’ve never taken Valium, but surely vodka’s the next best thing.”
Anna regarded her for a long moment then pulled a small packet of mints from her bag, opened the left hand side of Flic’s blazer, and slipped them inside. “Here, keep these in your pocket and suck on them regularly.”
Flic laughed. So did Max. Anna shook her head and led them all to the stinky car.
The bookstore was only ten minutes’ drive, and Flic sat in the back with Anna, her leg jiggling and her palms sweating. She’d never been anxious like this before. Nervousness was one thing, a good thing if she thought about it, but this was something else altogether.
It was a chilly day in Ireland, and every man she saw wearing a jumper with the hood over his head sent a sharp twinge of panic through her midsection. She should really have eaten something before drinking the vodka.
Anna produced a makeup case. “How many drinks did you have? You’re as white as a sheet.”
Flic glanced at her face in the tiny mirror on the inside of the case. She was certainly pale, but the sheen of sweat on her forehead glistened even in the dull sunlight. “I don’t feel so good. I think we should go back.”
“What?”
Turning back was not an option she knew Anna would be willing to explore.
Max eyed her warily in the rearview mirror.
“I don’t want to do this today.” The words tumbled from Flic as if her life depended on it.
“After Tuesday, today is crucial,” Anna replied quickly.
“After Tuesday, today is just absurd. Anything could happen. I could be stabbed. Jesus, I could end up in the morgue.”
Max swiftly pulled the car to the curb. Calm as you like, he unbuckled his seat belt and turned to face them. “Ladies, this is not helpful. I mean no disrespect, Felicity, but those idiots you encountered before were most likely there because it was a bit of fun to them.” Flic rolled her eyes. “I’ll grant you, not harmless fun, but they weren’t protestors passionate about the cause. You know that as well as I do. Rent-a-crowds at book launches don’t usually hurt people.”
“Yet still, I ended up in hospital!”
Anna placed her hand on Flic’s. “And you were okay.”
Flic felt her breathing slow, and she knew the reason was Anna’s soft touch. The notion irritated and comforted her simultaneously.
“And today we have Max,” continued Anna.
Max nodded. “We have a greater police presence, you have me, and it will all be fine.” He lowered his voice. “If I get even a sniff of something going down, I’ll have you out of there and away from it all so quick you’ll wonder what happened.”
Flic nodded and linked her fingers through Anna’s.
Max continued. “We don’t endure and survive episodes like Grafton Street. We actively avoid them. Please don’t worry. I have your back.”
Flic closed her eyes, attempting to relax. “Just give me a minute.” Her tense shoulders lowered, and she felt tiny droplets of sweat slide down her lower back. Until she heard Anna’s voice, she could have sworn the world stood still.
“Felicity? Flic?” Anna squeezed her hand, prompting her back to the present.
Flic cracked her eyes open the smallest of margins. She didn’t want to face the world, and she didn’t want Anna to release the firm grip on her hand. Reluctantly, she conceded, “I think I’m okay now.”
“Tuesday night was confronting, wasn’t it?”
That was an understatement.
“You have to remember though, you handled yourself amazingly well.”
“I wasn’t just scared. I was terrified.”
“That’s why you didn’t leave the hotel yesterday,” added Max.
Anna raised her eyebrow. “I knew you were shaken, but I’m not a mind reader. You need to talk to me when you feel this way. Max and I are worried about you.”
The words hurt Flic more than she had imagined possible. Unless it was to talk about marketing or publicity, Anna was possibly the least approachable person she’d ever met. “You don’t see that incident as anything other than a publicity opportunity, do you?” She removed her hand from Anna’s. “You could have asked you know? Would that have been too much for you, just to ask if I was okay?”
“I did ask.” Anna paused and frowned for a long moment. “Didn’t I?”
Flic shook her head. “Not really. Not until yesterday morning.”
“Well, I’m sorry. But you were fine.”
Physically I was fine, but mentally, I needed someone. Flic didn’t say the words aloud. They sounded pathetic and weak, and she couldn’t bear Anna knowing she wasn’t the tough investigative journalist everyone obviously thought she was.
Flic tapped Max on the shoulder. “Let’s just go. I’m ready now.”
“I’m sorry, Flic.”
“You’re here to do a job, not be my friend. I understand how this works.”
“But I am your friend, or at least I should have been a better person for you. Honestly, Flic, I’m really sorry.”
Flic wanted to defend herself, be strong and tell Anna she was fine without her help, but the words wouldn’t form in her mouth. It seemed that what she wanted and what her brain and body were telling her she needed, were polar opposites. She chose silence instead, forcing Anna to go on.
“You can do this today. We can do this. You, me, and Max.”
From beneath her lowered gaze, Flic saw Max nod his encouragement to Anna. He’d ignored her request to drive on.
“I wasn’t going to use it—mostly because I didn’t know if it would be useful—but Max gave me an earpiece and microphone yesterday. For everyone’s peace of mind, I think it will be valuable today. Max will be our eyes and ears, and I’ll make sure you can see me at all times.”
This perked Flic’s interest and encouraged Anna to continue. “I’m your focal point today, okay? I promise to be where you can see me at all times, and if Max wants to pull the plug, I’ll give you the signal.” She drew her finger across her throat in the universal sign for “kill it.”
Max intervened. “Um, let’s not get too dramatic, ladies.” He grinned, easing the tension. “How about we use a thumbs-up for all good and a thumbs-down to wrap it up.”
Flic clocked a flash of disappointment on Anna’s face, and it was amusing to think Anna was upset that her thumb would now dictate her foray into the world of personal protection. She wondered if Anna had ever used a thumbs-up signal in her life. For whatever reason, it worked. Flic relaxed, content with the plan. “Okay. And you’ll have communication with Max the entire time?”
“Yep. Focus on me. I’ll be there for you.”
Max turned on the engine and edged back into traffic.
The crowds were bigger than Dublin, but the police were in visible attendance, and Max assured her there were probably some undercover officers mingling in the crowds. Although initially concerned about the sheer volume of people, Flic studied them more closely. The demographic had altered. There were far fewer young men sporting angry scowls and chips on their shoulders. These seemed to be replaced with middle-aged people, men and women, some smiling and joking amongst themselves while others stood rigid in the early evening chill, their hands pushed deep in their pockets.
The messages on placards had altered, too. This is not a gay rights issue. This is a church issue. Leave us alone. Then there was a group of people with no placards at all. They simply wore a prominent rainbow accessory like a scarf or hat. Of course there was the standard Homosexuals are against the word of God placards, but tonight, instead of a young thug holding it aloft, a frail old man stood silently with it by his side. Flic wondered what the chances were of convincing a man entrenched in seventy-plus years of bigotry, to change his view.
/> She pointed him out to Anna. “I can’t hate that man. He’s of an era where it was okay to keep slaves, okay to openly suppress women. I’d like to think that if he were my age, he’d be bothered to protest for my rights, for the freedom to love. He’s just defending what he thinks is right.”
Anna pointed to a young woman holding a sign not dissimilar in ideals to the old man. What next? Legalizing pedophilia? “And what about her?”
Flic shook her head and turned away as their vehicle came to a halt. “She chooses to be ignorant. A bigot. She hasn’t had years of brainwashing in a time when people honestly didn’t know better.” Flic shrugged. “And the likelihood is that she has homosexual tendencies but was probably raised in a conservative family. Go figure.”
“Not everyone who’s raised conservatively and who doesn’t believe in homosexuality is in the closet you know.”
“Believe? Homosexuality isn’t like the Easter Bunny. You don’t believe or disbelieve it. It just is.”
“She has a right to protest.”
“Yes. And making a complete twat of herself is also her right. One she accomplishes with alarming success. But why care? Why does she care what someone else does in the comfort of their own home? Why so publicly voice an opinion on something you are clearly ignorant of? Why? Because you’re scared and in the closet, that’s why.”
Anna smiled. “I think you’re ready for today.”
Flic shook her head but smiled. “You infuriate me sometimes.”
“It’s part of my conservative charm.”
“What would your placard say?”
Max had exited the vehicle and was deep in conversation with what appeared to be a senior police officer.
“Me with a placard? You’ve got to be joking.”
Flic conceded it would be out of character. “Okay, no placard. In one sentence, what would your argument be?”
Anna gave it some thought. “God, Jesus, and the Catholic Church—God’s representatives on earth—don’t believe homosexuality is in the name of God. I believe in the church and therefore believe the pope shouldn’t be gay.”
The Fifth Gospel Page 10
