The Cost of Commitment - KJ2

by Lynn Ames

  The Cost of Commitment

  “I’m just dandy, Kate, lovin’ every minute of it.”

  “Sir, if you’d rather I didn’t take the position, I’ll understand.”

  “Katherine Kyle, if I ran from a fight every time the press had an opinion, I’d be a pretty poor excuse for a leader. I’m not the least bit concerned about the uproar. This, too, shall pass, as they say. And don’t you let them get to you either. You are more than qualified for this job, and I feel very lucky to have snagged you before someone else made you a better offer.”

  “Thank you, sir. You’re very kind. I won’t forget this.”

  “Forget the humble attitude, Kate. I liked you better when you were feisty. I’ve always valued your opinions and approach. I’m looking forward to having your advice and counsel close at hand. Let’s get together soon to talk, all right?”

  “Any time, sir.”

  “I’ll have my secretary set something up.”

  She had dined at the governor’s mansion several times since then.

  The conversation had been lively, the debate spirited. He truly did value her positions and opinions, and they argued policy and politics for hours.

  Kate shook her head slightly to clear it and refocused on the commissioner.

  “I’m sorry, what’s that, sir?”

  “I was saying I’ve been impressed with your work so far. You seem to have little trouble grasping the nuances of this business, and your ability to deflect negative publicity is uncanny. In short, you’ve caught on quickly and stopped our image from hemorrhaging any further. It’s nice to have a spokesperson on board who can get along with the press.”

  Here he smiled, and Kate could clearly hear the unspoken phrase, unlike your predecessor. “I just wanted you to know that I’ve noticed, and that I am awfully happy to have you here.”

  “Thank you, sir. I’m glad you feel that way.” Kate was somewhat at a loss; she was pretty sure her boss hadn’t called her in just to inflate her ego.

  After a moment’s hesitation, he went on. “Ah, Kate, I don’t know if you’re aware of this, but the governor’s been under a lot of pressure lately.” At her raised eyebrow, he explained, “Seems the boys from the DNC aren’t crazy about some of his positions. They see him as their meal ticket to the White House next year and they’re afraid of him alienating middle America.” His tone was derisive.

  “What you’re saying is the Democratic National Committee wants him to take no real stand about anything meaningful, accomplish nothing, and just pretend like he’s governing for the duration, right?”

  Lynn Ames

  “Charles is right about one thing: you are perceptive and not shy about telling it like it is in the appropriate company.”

  “Sir, I’ve never been one to subscribe to the ‘tell them what they want to hear’ theory. I believe people like you and the governor rely on me to offer the unvarnished truth; it’s that kind of advice that has real value.

  I’m afraid I’ll never be a good yes-person.”

  “Thank God, Kate. Thank God.”

  “Sir, I’m sure there’s a reason why you’re telling me this now.”

  He sighed. “Yes. I want you to know that there’s going to be increased scrutiny of everything we do here. You know what a hot-button issue crime and corrections is for a democrat. We’re going to have to make sure we dot every i and cross every t for the next year. You, in particular, are going to be in the hot seat. Are you all right with that?”

  Kate favored her boss with a cockeyed grin. “Respectfully, sir, been there, done that.”

  In the luxurious private study at the exclusive Fort Orange Club in Albany, three Democratic power brokers were in a heated discussion.

  Robert Hawthorne had been selected the year before to take the helm of the Democratic National Committee. He had recently retired from the U.S. Senate, where he had served four terms. Michael Vendetti, press secretary to Governor Charles Hyland of New York, was the most powerful spin doctor in the state. David Breathwaite, “super flak” of all law enforcement agencies, had made himself indispensable over the years by unearthing all manner of damaging information on important figures on both sides of the political aisle.

  “God damn it, David, you promised she wouldn’t be able to handle the job.”

  The former director of public information for DOCS answered,

  “Relax, Michael, you know you’re not supposed to get excited. Imagine what that’s doing to your blood pressure.”

  The man across the table from him actually growled. Vendetti, who was always impeccably dressed in finely tailored suits, regarded Kate’s predecessor and the current czar of criminal justice PR as the human personification of a weasel, and a short one at that.

  At Vendetti’s fierce expression, David continued mildly, “You’re the governor’s press secretary. It’s not my fault he prefers her advice to yours.”

  Vendetti rose so quickly that his ornately appointed high-backed chair toppled over backward, landing with a resounding bang on the hardwood floor. “You little—”

  The Cost of Commitment

  “That’s enough. Both of you.” Hawthorne leaned forward in his seat.

  “It won’t do us any good to fight amongst ourselves. We can’t afford to lose sight of the objective here. We need our boy Charlie in the White House—”

  Under his breath David mumbled, “That’s only because you couldn’t get yourself elected dog catcher last time around, Mr. Senator.”

  “And that Amazonian dyke is standing in our way.” If Hawthorne had heard the cutting remark directed at him, he chose to ignore it. “She has entirely too much influence over our boy. She goes to dinner with him every few weeks and all of a sudden he’s making dramatic policy announcements that have nothing to do with our agenda. Not only that, but we’ve got a wild card in the form of a commissioner we can’t control.

  I don’t like it.”

  “Bob, it’s too early to be concerned. She’s only been in the position three months. We said we’d get her out at six months.” Breathwaite never looked up as he chewed on his cuticles. “Give her time, she’s bound to screw up. If not, we’ll help her.”

  “Yes, well, I’m not leaving anything to chance here, so I’ve asked an old friend of mine to join us.” Hawthorne rose from his position at the head of the table and went to an inner door. “You can come in now, Willie.” To the others in the room, he said, “Gentlemen, I’m sure you know my good friend William Redfield, executive deputy commissioner of DOCS.”

  At the unexpected sight of the man he had worked with for more years than he cared to count, David Breathwaite visibly blanched. He hated surprises. “Bill. I didn’t realize you and the senator were on such friendly terms.”

  Redfield smirked, recognizing that he’d caught the department’s former spokesman off guard. To his view, Breathwaite had always been a necessary evil, but not someone to be trusted. “There are a lot of things you don’t know, David. Bob and I went to college together. He called me recently and filled me in.”

  “Yes, I thought it was important that we have someone on the inside.”

  Breathwaite protested, “We have someone on the inside already.” He wanted to control the flow of information from inside DOCS; with Redfield in the picture, his value had just decreased.

  “Yes, David, that’s true, but so far I’ve been less than satisfied with the results we’ve been getting from our source. We need someone with a little more pull, someone who can make things happen, if you will.”

  Hawthorne smiled thinly. “Please, Willie, have a seat.”

  Redfield selected the fourth and last available seat at the table. He had been to the Fort Orange Club only once before, to a retirement dinner for a state assemblyman. The place was too rich for his taste—all those Lynn Ames

  bluebloods who were born to power huddling behind their cigars and pipes in a setting that looked like it belonged in a British movie about the aristocracy. But Redfiel
d was a practical man—he knew that there was no better place to conduct business discreetly than here. His musings were cut short by the sound of the chairman’s voice.

  “Michael, how did our boy Charlie take my discussion with him today?”

  “As you might expect, he was less than overjoyed at having you come in and dictate political strategy and policy positions to him.”

  The veins in his neck bulging, Hawthorne thundered, “For Christ’s sake, he’s running around like he’s actually his own man. He belongs to this party. He belongs to us, and we’re gonna make sure he gets elected president in spite of himself. I don’t give a rat’s ass whether or not he’s happy as long as he sticks to our agenda!” Adjusting his tie, he added more quietly, “Michael, you’d better keep him in line. Will, I’m gonna need your help here. Kyle has got to be out the door in three months, no ifs, ands, or buts. Can you make that happen?”

  “You’ve got nothing to worry about, Bob.”

  “Good. I knew I could count on you. David, for God’s sake, try to stay the hell out of the newspapers and keep your head down. How are we going to reinstall you in Kyle’s place if you keep creating controversy?”

  In truth, Hawthorne hated Breathwaite as much as everybody else at the table, but the man had an uncanny knack for finding weak spots and exploiting them. He had certainly found Hawthorne’s, blackmailing him when he discovered the chairman’s scheme to use Governor Hyland as a puppet to gain control of 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue. He was a valuable asset to have, and a very bad enemy.

  Unfortunately, when the idiot had created a swirl of controversy and a host of enemies in the press, he had nearly gotten himself fired as DOCS

  PIO by the governor. Hawthorne and company had had to scramble to get him out of the line of fire for a time. Why he wanted to go back to DOCS

  so badly was a mystery, but Hawthorne didn’t care. If that’s what Breathwaite wanted, that’s what he would get. They needed him on the team.

  “That’s all for now, gentlemen. Keep the contact and conversation to a bare minimum, and we’ll meet back here in a month or two. I’ll be in touch when it’s time.”

  “Kate, sweetheart, are you home?” Before she had time to put her briefcase down, Jay was accosted by seventy-nine pounds of bouncing blonde fur. “Hey, buddy! Hey there, Fred. How was your day?” She bent The Cost of Commitment

  over and scratched the golden retriever lovingly on the hindquarters as he marched in place in between her legs. “Where’s your mommy, huh, guy?

  Is she here yet?”

  As if in answer to her query, Kate shouted from a distance, “Hey, love, I’m up here. C’mon up!”

  “On my way, as soon as Fred is done practicing his marching band routine.” Jay looked down again, “Let’s go, big guy, I can’t wait to see your mom.”

  She bounded up the stairs leading to the second floor of the house Kate had designed prior to their relationship, impressed, as always, with how comfortable and how much at home she felt here. Well, she thought wryly, it is my home now. The notion sent a thrill through her, as it never failed to do.

  At the top of the stairs, Jay was enveloped in a strong, but sensual hug. She glanced up to find twinkling eyes gazing lovingly at her, a smile on her partner’s face. Kate ducked her head, capturing the lips she adored in a slow, sweet kiss of welcome.

  “Mm, I love coming home to this.”

  “And I love you.”

  “I love you, too, Kate.”

  They stayed like that a few heartbeats more, just savoring the moment, until Fred made his presence known once again. They both smiled indulgently as Kate made eye contact with the spoiled beast.

  “Yes, doll, we know you’re here. No group hugs for you, though. Right now, this beautiful woman is all mine.”

  “Love, we’d better hurry if our reservation is at 7:30. Where are we going? What do I need to wear?”

  “Dressy tonight, babe. Something elegant and strapless, I think.”

  “Oh, what’s the occasion?”

  “Does there have to be one? Now go on, get moving.” Kate swatted Jay on the rear end, pushing her gently down the hall in the direction of what had once been the guest suite but had now become Jay’s personal space. The blonde affectionately referred to it as “the place where my clothes live in a world by themselves.”

  Kate retreated to the master bedroom, where she hastily dabbed on some Shalimar, her perfume of choice, and finished dressing. She jumped into a pair of high heels that matched her dress perfectly and hurried down the stairs, calling, “You’ve got about ten minutes, Jay. I’ll meet you downstairs.”

  She hustled to the side door, opening it to admit three men in waiter’s uniforms. “Hurry, guys, we only have a few minutes.”

  Lynn Ames

  Behind the servers came two women dressed in chef’s outfits. The first one stopped and kissed Kate on the cheek. “Hiya, beautiful. Don’t be so nervous. I promised you everything would be perfect, and so it shall.”

  “Barbara,” Kate hissed, “Jay’s gonna walk down the stairs in less than ten minutes expecting me to take her out for an elegant evening.

  Everything has got to be in place before that happens!”

  “Tch, woman, it’s a wonder you don’t have an ulcer already. Have I ever not delivered on a promise to you?”

  Sighing in exasperation, Kate answered, “No.”

  “Right, and I’m not about to ruin my reputation now. I didn’t get to be a world-renowned doctor by folding under pressure, toots.”

  Kate had to laugh at her friend. She was right. Barbara Jones was a well-recognized physician, a master gourmet chef, and a wonderful friend to have. Heaven knew she had seen Kate—then Kate and Jay together—through some rough patches.

  Turning to the waiters, Barbara pointed past the kitchen. “Okay, boys, the dining room’s that way. Work your magic.”

  At Kate’s upturned eyebrow, Barbara laughed. “Honey, these boys know more about presentation and style than any woman I’ve ever met.

  What is it about gay men that gives them such a sense of panache? I assure you, you’re in the best hands possible. In less than five minutes, your dining room is going to scream romance.”

  “You’re the best, you know that?”

  “Yeah, that’s why you keep me around, I presume.”

  “That and the fact that I can’t seem to keep myself out of harm’s way.” Kate winked as she made her way to the bottom of the staircase to await Jay’s arrival.

  It didn’t take long. Five minutes later she looked up to see a vision that robbed her of breath and speech. Jay paused at the top landing, her short blonde hair shimmering in the light from the chandelier, the emerald green, strapless, knee-length dress accentuating her lithe form and toned muscles to perfection. As she descended, Kate watched Jay’s smile grow wider in answer to her own.

  “You are the most magnificent woman I have ever laid eyes on, Jamison Parker.”

  “And you, Katherine Ann Kyle, are the sexiest creature on the planet.” Jay took note of the rich navy sheath that hugged her lover’s form, the material reaching over one shoulder, leaving the other, and most of her upper back, bare.

  “May I?” Kate reached for her lover’s hand, guiding her down the last steps and toward the dining room.

  The Cost of Commitment

  “Um, love? I may not have a great sense of direction, admittedly, but even I know that the garage is that way.” Jay pointed in the opposite direction.

  “It is? Damn, they must have moved it on me again.” But she continued moving in the direction she intended.

  “Okay, Kyle, what are you up to? Spill it.”

  “Oh, I love it when you get that authoritative tone in your voice.”

  “I mean it.”

  “Who says I have to be up to anything?”

  “I know you’ve got something cooked up here. You’ve got that cat that ate the canary look on your face.”

  “Moi?”

&nb
sp; “Yes, you, Miss Innocent.”

  They had reached the entrance to the dining room. Kate moved ahead slightly, wanting to block Jay’s view in case everything wasn’t ready yet.

  She needn’t have worried; the room had been transformed. Candlelight sent a warm glow throughout the spacious area, highlighting the dark richness of the mahogany table and chairs and painting interesting shadows on the Oriental rug. Fine china and silver glinted in the low lighting, while soft music played in the background. She stepped aside.

  “Oh, Kate...” Jay looked up questioningly.

  “I hope you like it, sweetheart.”

  “But...why? Am I missing something here?” Jay wracked her brains trying to think what occasion she might have missed. It wasn’t either of their birthdays; certainly it wasn’t Valentine’s Day or the anniversary of the consummation of their relationship...

  Kate took her lover’s hands in her own and forced eye contact. “Five years ago today I was standing on a tennis court, playing a long and difficult match—the last one of my college career, in fact—when all of a sudden I looked up on the hillside to see the most incredible vision. An angel, standing there watching over me. You, standing there watching over me. I fell instantly and irrevocably in love. Now, every day, I thank whatever power exists in the universe that brought you back into my life.

  I love you, Jay, more than life itself, and I just wanted to find a special way to commemorate the day I lost my heart and found the other half of my soul.”

  Tears flowed down Jay’s face. She buried her face in Kate’s chest.

  “Oh, sweetheart, that is so beautiful. You are the most incurable romantic; it’s one of the most amazing things about you. And I love you so much.”

  Kate bent her head and kissed her heart’s desire reverently on the mouth. “C’mon, love, the food’s getting cold.”

  “But—”

  Lynn Ames

  “You’re wondering if I’ve learned to cook overnight. Nope.”

  “Then what...how...”

  Kate smiled indulgently. “How about if you just sit down and all will be revealed to you.”

  Jay grinned sheepishly and accepted the seat her lover offered.