Page 23 of Size King
“You make an excellent point,” he concedes. “I’m still going to give you money for the cab. Are yousureI can’t take you home?”
“I’m sure, thank you, sir,” I say. “Is your limo driver here tonight?”
“He can be here in less than an hour. Why?”
“I’m just thinking about fun things I want to do. I’ll bet that driver has seen some shit.”
“More than you know.” He laughs cryptically.
“When will I see you again?” I ask desperately.
He ponders to himself for a few moments before answering. “Any time, day or night, little lady.”
9
Aiden
On Tuesday, Kate releases all the dirt and info that she dug up on Sarah, and the media stirs instantly, going into a constant state of major frenzy. No one knows who to talk to, what to ask us, or what to focus on. It gives us time to recuperate and decide what happens next in good time, instead of being rushed at the behest of the hungry media.
The info she released includes stories from six different men who know Sarah that have stories like mine to tell. Many are powerful or influential men, and it paints the portrait perfectly of the kind of crap I am dealing with.
By the time we hit Thursday, the conversation is all over the place. The media has been looking into Sarah, and fortunately for me, she often displayed her questionable behavior on social media, so everyone can see it. With everything on my side, the media is successfully able to have two colorful villains, two sexual deviants they can attack. Having just a little bit of the weight off my shoulders and shared with my opponent feels incredibly satisfying.
I’m holding a press conference that afternoon to address the allegations against me and now against Sarah. Even though my camp released the dirt on Sarah, I have to act as though I am basically clueless and know little about it.
Before I speak at the press conference, I call a meeting with my staff. I want us all to be on the same page, and I want Kate to get a chance to talk to the group. I want to hear her going over everything one more time.
As Kate goes over all her findings, the steps the press will take, and how we should approach everything, I once again find myself lost, entranced by her. The words begin to hit me like snowflakes melting in the air. I’m caught up in her delivery, the way she looks, the way she smells.
Everyone is happy with the info Kate has acquired. The more trysts and counts of abuse we can find, the better things look for Tech Wreck and me. We are all ready to put the bad press behind us.
I step up to the podium and address the media. Out of the corner of my eye, to the side of the stage, I can see Kate standing nearby, watching. I’m glad that she is right in the room with me. Plus, she needs to oversee everything when it’s a press conference like this. She has to watch the crowd to see how they react, watch me and how I interact with the crowd, and she even is monitoring social media from her phone while this is streaming online.
Although the reason Kate is standing there is because it’s part of her work, I’m secretly wondering if she is daydreaming at all about us the way that I am. The more I speak, the more I realize just how much more confident and secure I feel in this shitty situation ,with Kate there by my side.
I can’t stop shooting looks over at her during the question and answer segment. Eventually, she has to signal me to stop looking over at her. I know that this is the worst time to be checking her out, but I can’t help it. If she’s there, she’s always going to get my attention. Occasionally, after she catches me looking at her, she gets that look on her face that says, “This is why our romance needs to end.”
I dread even the thought of us stopping now that we are seeing just how good we can have it. I hate having to keep my feelings about Kate a secret. I want to talk to the reporters about Kate and just how exceptional she is. Instead, journalists and reporters ask questions about Sarah and what I think about it all, whether I think she’s lying or whetherIam lying. They throw out their questions, most of which even I could’ve predicted, and I gave them all the best answers. If anything, the crowd seems annoyed at just how cool and calm I’m being.
After all is said and done, I pull Kate aside.
“Hey,” I say to her quietly. “I don’t know about you, but I’m wiped out from all of this.”
“Same here,” she replies.
“Why don’t we go get a drink after we get out of here?” I propose. “You and me—we’ll go and chill, cool off after all the hard work we’ve been doing.”
Considering all of our circumstances, I suspect that she might actually say no. To my delight, she smiles and agrees.
“I’d love to,” says Kate.
* * *
I haveKate meet me at the Lightning Troubadour, a fancy drinking spot just outside of Queens. We each dress casually, and we meet up with the stipulation that we are both on our best behaviors. I agree, but I know even my best behavior might not be good enough for her.
With each new drink I order, I ensure that each subsequent topic of conversation we have will leave less room for us to introduce mischief.
“So, what’s your family like?” I ask her once I start my third drink. “Where’d you grow up?”