by Lynn Ames
“You sure do.”
“Wow, maybe I should put in for a raise, huh?” Jay moved forward, using her thumbs to wipe the moisture from Kate’s eyelashes. “Kate, before I met you I existed, moving in my own little world. I never allowed anyone to touch me. Not really. Now, I can’t imagine living like The Cost of Commitment
that. You’ve opened up a whole new universe to me. I’m the one who should be thanking you.”
“I guess we’re both pretty lucky then, huh?”
“I guess we are.” Jay wrapped her arms around Kate’s bare waist, hugging her tightly. After a minute she asked, “Now can we go upstairs?”
Kate laughed and tipped Jay’s chin up so that she could claim her lips. “Mm. Sweetheart, you can take me anywhere you want.”
“In that case, come with me.”
Kate stirred and glanced at the digital clock on the nightstand. 7:22
a.m. Jay was sprawled on top of her, in exactly the same position she had fallen asleep after several rounds of lovemaking. Kate ran her fingers lightly over the soft skin of her lover’s buttocks, delighting in the texture.
She buried her nose in silky strands of hair, the smell reminding her of a fresh summer breeze. It was these moments, just before they started their day, that she cherished most.
“What are you thinking about, love? Your heart is fluttering.”
“Just enjoying how wonderful it feels to hold you like this. I love you, Jamison Parker.”
“I love you, too, Katherine Kyle.”
Just as Jay was about to kiss Kate, a stuffed angelfish was unceremoniously shoved between them.
Kate sighed. “Good morning to you, too, Fred. I don’t suppose you could wait another few minutes, could you?”
The canine wagged his tail furiously, his whole body wiggling from the effort.
“Didn’t think so.” To her lover Kate said, “I’m sorry, baby. I’ve got to get him fed and out.”
“That’s all right. I’ve got to get the ACT UP story written anyway.”
“Okay. Well, why don’t I take him for a run around the Village. I need to pick up a newspaper on my way back, too.” Kate kissed Jay on the top of the head and slid out from underneath her. Immediately, Fred began dancing in circles, the stuffed fish clenched tightly between his jaws.
“C’mon, ya goofball.” Kate scratched the dog on the head as she headed downstairs to the kitchen to feed him.
As she and Fred rounded the corner on the way home, Kate stopped at a newsstand. She selected the New York Post, the Daily News, the New York Times, and Newsday. She was about to head up the steps to Jay’s Lynn Ames
apartment building when she thought better of it. Instead, she crossed the street, Fred following obediently on the leash, and into the park.
“Jay needs to concentrate on her work, buddy. Let’s enjoy the day for a bit, shall we?”
The air was chilly, fall settling over the city like a blanket. The leaves were beginning to change, the maple trees showing hues of red, orange, and yellow. There was a quietness to this section of the city, a rhythm that differed from the hustle and bustle of midtown Manhattan. The sounds were more muted here, the pace of life a bit slower.
Kate settled down on a bench, Fred lying at her feet. She spread the papers out next to her, choosing to start with the Post first, figuring that paper would be likely to have the most inflammatory version of the story, and perhaps even a companion piece by one of its own reporters in addition to Wendy’s piece.
Kate opened the paper to page two. “Prison PIO Has an Axe to Grind,” the headline screamed.
“Now that’s catchy.” Noting the prominent placement of the story, she added, “Must be a slow news weekend. Just my luck.”
State prison spokeswoman Katherine Kyle may have more on her mind than handling the press, according to anonymous sources close to the situation. The Associated Press has confirmed that Kyle, on the job for a little more than three months, has a reason to be bitter at the very criminal justice system she purports to represent. As a freshman in college, Kyle lost both her parents to a drunk driver in a crash on the Hutchinson River Parkway just outside New York City. Although he paid a large amount of damages awarded in civil court, the man never served a day in jail.
“There’s no question Kate thought he should have done time.
It made her very angry at the system. I’m not sure she’s ever gotten over that,” the source revealed.
A review of Kyle’s record on the job to date does not turn up any overt examples of sabotage, but several media outlets around the state have questioned her job performance of late.
State Department of Correctional Services Commissioner Brian Sampson, reached by AP while touring several prisons in the western part of the state, said, “I have complete confidence in Ms. Kyle. Her integrity and professionalism are beyond reproach.”
AP’s attempts to contact Kyle were futile.
The Cost of Commitment
With a sigh, Kate turned to the editorial page. Sure enough, the lead editorial headline was “Prison PIO Should Resign.” Sitting on her bench in the quiet of a Greenwich Village Sunday morning, the subject of the attack shook her head sadly.
Predictably, the opinion piece questioned her objectivity, motives, and veracity. It demanded a review of any and all instances in which she had spoken on behalf of DOCS, questioning if the information she had provided news outlets could be trusted.
Kate set aside the Post and picked up the other three newspapers. To her great relief, the Daily News and Newsday simply carried Wendy’s story; the New York Times didn’t run the piece at all.
She closed her eyes, trying to stave off the tension headache that had been her constant companion for the past three months. Unbidden, long-dormant memories of her last conversation with her parents crept in. It was December 15, 1978, and her last exam for the semester was over.
She had just told them she didn’t plan to come home for Christmas vacation. She was enjoying her freedom, experiencing life on her own for the first time. She was just about to start a new job with the ski patrol at the college ski area, and her new bosses had asked her to work over the holiday. Kate could have said no, but she didn’t want to.
“I thought you wanted me to take responsibility, to make my own decisions. Now I do, and you’re upset about it.”
“Katherine, we want you to be your own person, but we haven’t seen you since October, and we miss you terribly.”
She wanted to tell them she missed them, too, but she didn’t utter the words. Instead she said, “I’ll see you at the end of winter term. It’s just two months away.”
“Kate,” her father interrupted in his typically authoritarian tone,
“you’ve never missed a Christmas with us. Don’t start now.”
“Dad, you can’t tell me what to do anymore.”
“I most certainly can, young lady.” Even from three hundred miles away, his voice boomed, brooking no argument. “As long as I pay the bills, you’ll do as I say.”
Kate’s mother, as was her custom, tried to make peace between father and daughter. “Katherine, please come home. It’s not right for you to be so far from home on the most important holiday of the year.”
Kate hesitated. She hated to disappoint her mother, but she would not be bullied into changing her mind. “I’m staying. I’ll call you Christmas morning.” She hung up the phone.
But she had never had the chance to talk to them, or to tell them she loved them, and never would again. Kate wiped tears from her face.
Lynn Ames
“I miss you guys. I’m sorry. If I had made a different choice, you might not have gone to that party and been on that parkway that night.
Maybe you’d still be here with me. I was so selfish. If I had only known...” She bowed her head; she would never forgive herself for allowing angry words to be the last between them.
Fred, sensing his mother’s distress, sat up and put his chin on Kate’s lap. Smiling through her
tears, she reached down and scratched him on the head.
“C’mon, buddy. Enough of the maudlin for one day. Let’s go see what Jay’s up to.”
As she stood up and gathered the newspapers, her beeper went off.
Looking at the number displayed on the readout, she frowned.
“Figures, buddy,” she addressed the dog as she led him at a jog across the street to Jay’s apartment building.
When she opened the door, Jay emerged from her office.
“Honey, Commissioner Sampson is looking for you. He called here. I told him to try your beep—what’s the matter, love?” Jay ran her fingers over Kate’s tear-streaked face. “What happened?”
“Nothing, baby. I’m all right. I need to call the boss back.” At her displeased expression, Kate added, “I’m not blowing you off, Jay. We can talk about it later. Right now I don’t want to keep the big man waiting.”
“I’ll accept that—for now—but we are going to address what’s bothering you afterward, right?”
“Absolutely.” Kate kissed Jay on the forehead before heading into the living room to make her phone call.
“Kate? Have you seen the papers yet this morning?”
“Yes, sir, I have.”
“I just want you to know, I am standing behind you 100 percent on this thing. It’s outrageous that some scumbag reporter would use something as personal as the death of your parents to try to disparage you. I’ve half a mind to call up the editors at AP and demand that she be fired.”
“Sir, I don’t think the story was her doing.”
“What?”
Kate felt her way carefully, trying to decide how much to reveal. “I see a pattern here, and it goes much further than one reporter and one news outlet.”
“What are you saying, Kate?”
“I’m saying there appears to be a concerted effort underway to discredit me.”
The Cost of Commitment
The commissioner was quiet for a moment. “There has been an unusual amount of negative publicity directed specifically at you lately, hasn’t there?”
“Yes, sir, there has. And if you want me to step aside in order to make that stop, I will.”
“I’ve told you before, Kate. The governor and I have complete faith in you. I won’t hear of it.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Not at all, Kate. Who do you think is behind this?”
“I’m not really sure yet, sir.” Technically, that was the truth, Kate thought. Breathwaite clearly had associates they’d yet to flush out, possibly even including Sampson’s second in command.
“I intend to find out,” Sampson stated.
“No, sir. This is my fight. I’ll take care of it.”
“Kate, if it affects my staff or my department, it’s my business.”
“Please, sir, I’d like the chance to investigate further without a lot of fanfare. I think it will be easier to operate under the radar that way.”
“All right, Kate. But if you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask. I want you to know my displeasure isn’t with you; it’s with whoever’s pulling the strings on this thing.”
“I understand, sir, and I appreciate that.”
“Keep your chin up, Kate. Don’t let them get the best of you.”
“Thank you, sir. Enjoy the rest of your weekend.”
Kate found Jay in the kitchen, where she was busy cooking them omelets, home fries, and toast for breakfast. “Mm, something smells delicious.” She wrapped her arms around Jay’s waist, nuzzling her neck from behind.
“Keep that up and something’s going to smell burnt.”
Kate raised her hands in mock surrender, backing away several steps.
“Far be it for me to spoil a wonderful meal.”
Jay regarded her intently. “What’s going on, sweetheart? Why were you so upset, and what did the commissioner want this early on a Sunday?”
“Have I told you how absolutely breathtaking you are?”
“Stop it, Kate. Changing the topic will not get you anywhere, and I’m not in the mood for your tricks. So give.”
“You win. Wendy’s story hit all the papers today. I was just having a nostalgic moment for my folks. That’s what had me upset.”
“Oh, honey.” Jay closed the distance between them, taking Kate in her arms. “I’m so sorry. I wish you hadn’t given her that kind of ammunition. I hate to see you in pain.”
“I just let my guard down for a second, sweetheart. I’m fine now.”
“What did the commissioner want?”
Lynn Ames
“He saw the stories and he was spitting mad at Wendy. Wanted to have her fired.”
“Uh-oh. How’d you get around that?”
“I told him just enough of the truth to mollify him.” At Jay’s raised eyebrow, she continued, “I told him there was something fishy going on that was much bigger than her, but I hadn’t figured all the angles yet.”
“Did he accept that?”
“He wanted to bust heads. I told him I wanted to handle it myself.
He’s giving me the room to do that, provided I let him know if I need anything.”
“Well, that’s good, right?”
“Sure is.”
Jay regarded her speculatively. “Honey?”
“Hmm?”
“I hate what all this is doing to you.” Kate tried to pull away, but Jay held her fast. “Just hear me out. You’re so stressed your jaw barely opens, you’re not sleeping well, you have to think three steps ahead of everything all the time. This is crazy.”
“I can handle it.”
“I’m not arguing whether or not you can handle it, baby. I’m just saying I wonder if this is all worth it.”
“What are you driving at?”
“You don’t need this. We don’t need this. You could walk away and be well out of it.”
Kate stiffened. “No.”
“Don’t you even want to think about it? Look at what this is doing to you.”
“No way. Jay, first of all, I like what I do. Second of all, I’ll be damned if I’m going to let these bastards, whoever they are, win. I won’t do it.”
Jay, sensing that her partner had her mind made up, relented. “Okay then. I’m with you, love. We’ll get through this together.”
“Thank you, Jay. Your support means everything to me.”
“You mean everything to me, Katherine Ann Kyle. We’ll do whatever it takes. Let’s get the bastards.”
“That’s my girl.”
The Cost of Commitment
CHAPTER SIX
s soon as they were seated around the table in their usual Ameeting spot, DNC Chairman Hawthorne began. “Okay, gentlemen. Where are we?” He looked meaningfully around the table.
“So help you God if the news isn’t good.”
At the same time, the governor’s press secretary and the DOCS
executive deputy commissioner glared at Breathwaite.
“Well, David, it seems that all eyes are on you.”
“So it does.” Breathwaite barely glanced up from the notebook in which he was doodling.
“And?”
“I’m working on it, Bob.”
“We’re running out of time, and I’m running out of patience, you little—”
“Relax, Senator. I don’t see anyone else in this room stepping up to the plate.”
“You said you could handle it.” Vendetti pointed his finger at Breathwaite. “I’ve been busy trying to do damage control to keep Governor Charlie from derailing this train. Every goddamned time our boy has dinner with Kyle he comes out with some bold policy initiative that’s sure to draw fire. At this rate, I’ll never get to the White House.”
“Oh, stop your whining, pretty boy. My strategy is already in play.
It’s just a matter of time.”
“Time, you maggot, is a luxury we don’t have.”
Breathwaite’s ears began to turn red, the only visible sign of his anger. Before he cou
ld answer, however, Bill Redfield joined the conversation.
“For your information, genius, your ‘strategy’ is only making things worse. The commissioner called me this morning to tell me he’s standing Lynn Ames
by Kyle, despite the sudden onslaught of negative publicity. He’s figured out that these stories aren’t random, and he’s itching to find out who’s at the root of this smear campaign, as he called it. The only thing that’s saving us is that Kyle apparently convinced him not to intervene.”
“She’s probably ready to resign.” Breathwaite appeared unconcerned about the development.
Redfield shook his head. “She’s not going anywhere of her own volition, and he’s not throwing her out. She told Sampson she wanted to take care of the situation herself.”
“It’s obvious they know there’s something organized going on. I thought the idea here was to be subtle.” Vendetti leaned forward in his chair.
Breathwaite sneered, “I thought the idea here was to get results.”
“Either way, you’ve failed,” Vendetti said.
Breathwaite jumped to his feet. “Listen, you sniveling ingrates. It’s not over yet. You said six months, and it’s only been four. Get off my back!”
“Sit down, David,” Hawthorne ordered.
Reluctantly, he did.
“It appears we now have two problems. We still have to get Kyle out of the way, and, we may have to do something about Sampson before he starts to make noise to Charlie about his suspicions.”
“Great. Just great.”
“Michael, shut up. It’s your job to keep tabs on any interactions between Charlie and Sampson. If it looks as if Sampson’s brought the issue to Charlie’s attention, then we’ve got to move.”
“I’m not sure we can afford to wait for that to happen, Bob. Once the governor is made aware of the situation, it becomes far more complicated. I think it’s time to pull out what we’ve got on Sampson now.”
“We don’t have anything on Sampson. I have it, and I’ll take care of it.”
“The same way you’ve taken care of Kyle, Breathwaite?”
“It seems to me, Willy, that it’s in your best interest to be nice to me.
After all, you do want to be the next DOCS commissioner, don’t you?”
