Jess watches me. The concern is clear in her eyes, but she doesn’t push. Instead, she simply takes my hand under the table, tracing small circles on my palm with her thumb.
“Whatever you decide,” she says softly, “I’ve got your back.”
The simple declaration steadies me. For all my years in PR and managing other people’s crises, I’ve always handled my family complications alone. Having Jess in my corner is something I never realized I wanted.
thirty-three
. . .
Jess
“We’ve got something.”
Kira drops a folder on my desk with the quiet intensity that always means a potentially explosive story has landed. I glance at the documentary camerawoman positioned in the corner of my office, capturing every movement for Dylan’s “day in the life of a journalist” segment. Great timing.
“Give me a minute,” I tell both Kira. “I need to review this first.”
Kira nods, understanding the subtext. Some things need to be assessed before they’re discussed on camera. She slips out of the office, closing the door behind her.
I open the folder and scan the contents. My stomach drops. It’s a legal brief: “Civil Complaint Filed: Vanessa Martin v. Senator Logan Carmichael—Allegations of Sexual Harassment, Hostile Work Environment, and Retaliatory Termination.”
It details allegations from Carmichael’s former scheduler, Vanessa Martin, who claims he made persistent unwantedadvances, sent inappropriate texts, and eventually demoted her when she refused his overtures.
Shit.
I close the folder and press my fingers against my temples. Of all the stories to land on my desk today, it had to be this one. I can almost hear the universe laughing at me.
A week ago, I promised Lucas I wouldn’t dig into his father’s affairs. Now his father’s affairs have dug their way to me.
I buzz Kira back in, aware of our camerawoman adjusting her position to better capture our conversation.
“What do we know about the source?” I ask, keeping my voice neutral.
“Martin’s attorney reached out directly. They want to offer an exclusive interview before the story breaks wide.”
“Why us?” The question is automatic; the journalist in me is always suspicious of convenient tips.
“Your reputation from the MeToo exposés,” Kira explains. “And apparently, Martin’s sister follows your podcast.”
I nod, organizing my thoughts. “Verify the filing. Check Martin’s employment records. See if there are other complaints we can corroborate.”
“Already on it.” Kira hesitates. “There’s something else. The filing mentions a pattern of behavior with multiple women. Names have been redacted, but they reference incidents in the Hamptons.”
My mind flashes to Diane Mercer, the woman I saw with Logan. The timing is too perfect to be coincidental.
“Give me an hour,” I tell her. “Then we’ll map out a plan.”
When she leaves, I sit motionless, staring at the folder. The filming continues silently from the corner.
“Can we pause for a minute?” I ask her.
“Dylan requested that we keep rolling during editorial decisions,” she replies apologetically. “For authenticity.”
Of course he did. I force a professional smile. “I need to speak with Dylan. Now.”
Ten minutes later, Dylan strides into my office, all artistic intensity and caffeine energy.
“Privacy issue,” I say firmly. “Can we get some space?”
