The Cost of Commitment - KJ2 Page 11
Within two minutes, Kate walked back into Barbara’s office, followed by the reporter.
“Wendy Ashton, I’d like you to meet the love of my life, Ms. Jamison Parker. Jay, this is the intrepid reporter for the Associated Press, Ms.
Wendy Ashton.”
Jay stepped forward, her smile radiant, thrusting out her hand for Wendy to shake. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Ashton. I’ve heard so much about you.”
“None of it good, I’m sure.”
“On the contrary,” Jay said, “Kate has told me you’re fair and honorable. And believe me,” she added with a chuckle, “she doesn’t say that about every reporter she meets.”
Kate, standing aside and observing, smirked. It was clear to her that Jay had already won the reporter over.
“I bet,” said Wendy, noticeably more relaxed now than she had been when she stepped into the room.
“Why don’t we all sit down?” Kate suggested.
When they were settled, Wendy looked from Kate to Jay and back again. “Okay, let’s start with an off-the-record question.”
Both interviewees raised their eyebrows.
The Cost of Commitment
“Why on earth are you willing to step in front of all those reporters today when you’ve been avoiding them for months?”
As Kate started to open her mouth, Wendy held up a hand. “Don’t answer. Not yet, anyway. That was sort of a rhetorical question. You’ll ruin my fun if I don’t get an opportunity to show your fiancée here how smart I am. Here’s my guess: Breathwaite has figured out Jay’s identity and you need to head him off at the pass.”
Jay glanced to Kate before responding. “Oh, I am suitably impressed, Ms. Ashton.”
“Please, if you don’t start calling me Wendy I’m going to think I’ve turned into my mother.” She turned to Kate. “What happened?” When Kate didn’t immediately answer she added, “Off the record—just ally to ally.”
Kate calculated how much she should reveal. She knew that if it hadn’t been for the bond they’d developed as a result of recent events, she would never even have considered sharing that information. She also was well aware that Wendy had shown great faith in her, and she should return the favor.
“Breathwaite came to me this morning with Jay’s identity and leaned on me to resign. I told him to go to hell, and here we are.”
Wendy nodded. “He figured Jay was your weak spot. Huh.” She thought. “Well, nothing else has worked for him, I guess he felt like he needed to try a different approach.”
“Apparently,” Jay said with distaste.
“Obviously,” Wendy said, “he was wrong.”
Kate looked at Jay meaningfully before answering, “Jay is my strength—she and I will face Breathwaite and any other challenges together.” She reached over and took her lover’s hand, squeezing it gently.
Jay smiled up at her, tears springing to her eyes.
Wendy cleared her throat. “If this keeps up, even I’m gonna cry.
Okay, let’s get down to business then. What exactly are you announcing this morning and why?”
By mutual agreement, Kate took the lead in answering Wendy’s questions.
“Jay and I decided to speak out this morning in order to restore some sense of peace and normalcy to our lives. We are proud of our relationship and have nothing to hide. Coming forward, we hope, will bring an end to the incessant questions, rumors, and innuendo about my private life that have swirled around in certain media outlets for the past several months.”
“Why haven’t you come forward before now?”
Lynn Ames
“We believed that our personal lives were just that, and that if we ignored the hubbub, perhaps prurient interest in us would die down. It hasn’t, so here we are.”
“What do you expect the reaction from your bosses will be to your announcement?”
Kate laughed. “I’m fairly confident that my employers are well aware of my preferences, as the matter has been well documented. Fortunately for me, both the governor and the commissioner are fair, open-minded individuals who are more interested in my job performance than they are in my private affairs.”
Kate watched Jay out of the corner of her eye, knowing that she was waiting for the reporter to ask her the same thing. Her relief when Wendy moved on to the next question was palpable.
“How do you think this will change your lives from this point forward?”
“I am confident that going out to dinner together won’t take quite as much planning,” Kate quipped.
“Fair enough. Are you worried about fallout from those who are less, as you put it, open-minded than your employers?”
“We can’t worry about things we can’t control. We can only live our lives as honestly and truthfully as we can. We’ll deal with everything else as it comes along.”
The reporter sat back. “Okay, ladies. There’s a lot more I should ask, as you both know, but I’m not interested in dragging your personal lives through the mud. I’m sure my colleagues will more than make up for my lack of curiosity in just a little while.”
Kate touched Wendy on the sleeve. “Thank you.”
Wendy looked at Kate, then at Jay. “No, thank you. Thank you for having the courage to come out like this, and for cheating that jerk out of his thunder. Thank you for paving the way and making it easier for the rest of us, hopefully, to follow in your footsteps. And thank you for your dignity. You both do all of us proud.”
Jay spoke up for the first time since the formal interview had started.
“I can see why Kate has so much respect for you. You earn it.”
“Thanks.” Wendy winked and smiled. “And I can see why Kate has kept you a jealously guarded secret. She’s going to be the envy of every red-blooded lesbian this side of the Mississippi. Now, if you don’t mind, I’ve got a story to get on the wire, and, if I’m not mistaken, you’ve got a date with the horde.”
She was gone before either lover could respond.
The Cost of Commitment
As they prepared to enter Meeting Room 6 underneath the Empire State Plaza where the press conference was to take place, Kate turned to Jay. “Honey, Wendy was very circumspect with her questions. These folks won’t be.”
Jay tried to smile reassuringly. “I know that, Kate. I trust you to navigate us through this.” She grasped Kate’s hand and gave it a squeeze.
“Whatever happens, I know you’ll do your best. That’s good enough for me.”
“Have I told you lately how much I love you?”
Before Jay could answer, Kate pulled the door open. The flashes from dozens of still cameras, combined with the brightness of the TV klieg lights, blinded them both for an instant before they were able to get their bearings.
Kate led Jay to the front of the room where a podium was set up. On it were more than twenty microphones and handheld tape recorders. The mics all bore the colorful logos, or “flags,” of their respective news outfits; looking at them, Kate recognized every major radio and television station in the Albany area, plus a few from other nearby media markets and one from New York City. There was one unmarked mic, and Kate pitied the reporter who had forgotten to attach the appropriate flag.
News directors and general managers lived to see their logos splashed all over the competition’s newscasts—it was a form of free subliminal advertising. It was the reason why reporters tried to time putting their mics up so carefully: put it up too early and it was bound to get shoved aside by others; arrive too late and run the risk of not having any space left on which to place the mic.
Kate looked out over the throng of people. There were many familiar faces—some who covered prison issues, others who had been colleagues and acquaintances from her days with WCAP.
She smiled, held out her hands in a gesture encompassing them all, and said, “What? Was it a slow news day today?”
Her comment broke the ice, and the room erupted in laughter.
“I’d like to say I�
��m surprised to see you all here, but given the number of you who’ve taken up residence in my back pocket in the last five or six months, I can’t.”
“Who’s the beautiful blonde, Kate?”
“You never did have any patience, Walt, did you? If you wait a second, I’ll get to that. First, I want to set a few ground rules.” She glared at the tabloid reporters in the front row. “We’ll be happy to entertain appropriate questions after I’ve made a statement. Anything of a purely voyeuristic nature will be ignored. Do we understand each other?”
There were generally grudging murmurs of agreement.
Lynn Ames
“Okay, then. I’d like you all to meet Ms. Jamison Parker. Jay is my partner, my better half, and, in my humble opinion, one of the brightest, most talented, most beautiful women in the world.”
Jay blushed crimson as she looked on, watching Kate exercise complete command over the room while working without any notes whatsoever.
“Although this may seem a bit odd to you, Ms. Parker and I have decided to come forward with her identity at this time because we value our privacy.” She favored the reporters from some of the more aggressive tabloids with a glacial stare. “For nearly six months we have been subjected to intense media scrutiny, so-called journalists shadowing me at all hours of the day and night, grilling my colleagues and friends, even paying purported ‘informed sources’ for ‘inside scoops.’”
A reporter for the National Enquirer piped up, “If you had just answered my questions, I wouldn’t have had to get so inventive.”
Kate glared daggers at him.
“It is our fervent hope that after standing here together today, answering questions about our personal lives that are so clearly beyond the realm of anything resembling news, you all will find the common decency to let us live our lives in peace.” Kate looked over to her left at Jay, who looked for all the world as if she was listening to an interesting lecture. The bunching of her jaw muscles, however, told Kate a different story.
“We’ll take appropriate questions now.”
“Ms. Parker, you can talk for yourself, can’t you?”
Jay stepped up closer to Kate at the podium and smiled engagingly as a new wave of flashes and whirring camera shutters went off. “I’d like to think so.”
“How did you and Ms. Kyle meet?”
“We met initially in college.”
“Have you been lovers since then?”
“No, as luck would have it, we reconnected earlier this year.”
“Ms. Parker, haven’t I seen your name before somewhere? Are you the same Jamison Parker whose byline I’ve seen in Time magazine?”
Kate muttered under her breath, “Well, that took all of four questions.”
Jay squeezed her lover’s hand behind the podium, out of sight of prying eyes and cameras. “Yes, I am a writer for Time and have been for several years.”
“When you say you met in college, what does that mean? Can you elaborate on that a little?”
The Cost of Commitment
Jay, who had been expecting a follow-up question regarding her cover story on Kate, smiled. “Sure. We met for the first time when I was badly injured skiing. Kate was the ski patroller who rescued me.”
“Did she steal your heart then?”
“Let’s just say she made quite an impression on me.”
“How about you, Kate? Were you smitten all the way back then?”
“What’s not to love?” She winked.
There were nods of agreement among the male journalists.
Before anyone could ask any more questions, Kate said, “Thanks, folks, but you all have deadlines, and we have work to do ourselves.”
She led Jay away from the podium and hustled her out the door.
When they were safely away from the microphones and cameras, Jay leaned close. “That was an interesting turn of events. What happened there?”
Kate, knowing she was referring to the abrupt change in lines of questioning, laughed. “Marcia happened, that’s what.”
“And who, exactly, is Marcia?”
“Marcia, love, is an old friend of mine from my WCAP days. She’s the station’s top street reporter.”
“So she did that on purpose—to help us out?”
“Mm-hmm.”
Jay looked incredulous.
Kate said, “Did you get a look at who her photographer was?”
“No, I couldn’t see anything with all those flashes going off.”
“Do you remember Gene, my cameraman?”
“Of course, I got to spend an entire afternoon with him looking at old footage of you when I was working on the story. How could I forget?”
“He was the photog today. He remembers you, too.”
Realization dawned on Jay. “Ah. As soon as he saw that it was me, he knew where the questions were going to go.”
“Sure did. And he tipped his reporter off.”
“Great guy.”
“Yeah,” Kate sighed wistfully, thinking about the way she had been forced to leave her television family behind. “I miss him. Gene is a good man, and a loyal friend.”
Jay rubbed shoulders with her. “Maybe we could have him over to the house sometime?”
“Maybe,” Kate said vaguely.
“You don’t think he’ll be all right with us?”
“I don’t know, love. My sexuality is not something we ever discussed. Plus, he had a pretty big crush on you when he met you.”
“No way.” Jay gaped at Kate.
“Way. He wanted to ask you out.”
Lynn Ames
“You never told me that.”
“I didn’t think it was relevant at the time. And I was a little focused on my own attempts to win your heart.”
“Aw, you’re so sweet.”
“Anyway,” Kate went on, “I’m not sure how accepting he’d be.”
“If he’s important to you, Kate, maybe it’s worth the risk to find out.”
“Perhaps. Oh, and for the record?”
“Yes?”
“Marcia is gay.”
“Who?”
“Marcia. The reporter who changed the subject for us.”
“Oh.” Jay was quiet for a beat, recalling the attractive redhead in the third row. “She is?”
“Yep. I’m sure glad she doesn’t hold a grudge.”
“What do you mean?”
Kate took her lover by the hand. “I can’t count the number of times I turned her down for dates.”
Jay chuckled. “Poor girl.”
“Nah, she’s better off without me.”
“Lucky for me.”
“There’s no contest, sweetheart.” Kate looked at Jay lovingly. “By the way, I was very impressed with the way you handled yourself in there.”
“Nice change of subject. I’ll let you get away with it this time, Stretch.”
“I appreciate your generosity.”
“How long do you think it will take before the cover piece becomes the story?”
“Two news cycles.”
“Well, that gives us at least until this afternoon, anyway.”
“Nah, I mean two newspaper cycles.”
Jay looked at Kate inquiringly.
“Think about it, Jay—this story isn’t really geared for radio and television—it would take too much in-depth research and it’s not important enough to their audience.”
“That’s your area of expertise, honey, so I’ll defer to you.
Considering the newspapers, then, we’ve got until at least day after tomorrow for the cover article to become the focus. Tomorrow’s editions will be all about my identity and the fact that we came forward.”
“Exactly.”
Jay stopped walking for a moment and turned to her lover. “If it’s not a radio-and-television kind of story, why were they all there?”
The Cost of Commitment
“Curiosity, mostly,” Kate answered. “And because they couldn’t very well ignore the pre
ss conference altogether if their print compatriots were covering it.”
“Will they run the story?”
“Oh, sure. But it will be old news by noon for the radio folks. The TV
guys will air it at noon and again repackaged at six, and that will be the end of it for them.”
“Even after round two?”
“Yeah, I’m betting that only the print folks’ll latch on to the follow-up story.”
“That’s some consolation, then.”
They had reached Kate’s car, which was parked in the visitors’ lot underneath the complex of government buildings.
Kate said, “We’ll see about that.” She kissed Jay on the mouth, lingering long enough to taste her lips and explore a bit, enjoying the freedom of no longer having to care who saw them.
“Mm,” Jay hummed. “What was that for?”
Kate smiled at the slightly dreamy expression on her face. “Just because I could. And because I love you so very much. You really did great today, Jay.”
“You did all the hard work, love. I just came along for the ride.”
“And what a ride it’s going to be.”
At precisely 10:01 a.m. Breathwaite began making phone calls. After the third attempt netted him an answering machine instead of a reporter, he called the general number for the Legislative Correspondents’
Association room, where all press releases, advisories, and notices of press conferences got dropped off for reporters to collect. The LCA room was normally located on the third floor of the capitol. However, while construction workers continued putting the pieces of the capitol back together following its destruction by the bombing the preceding spring, the LCA room was being housed temporarily on the ground floor of the Legislative Office Building.
“LCA room,” a bored-sounding voice intoned.
“Hazel? David Breathwaite here.” Hazel had been running the LCA room for more than twenty-five years, and Breathwaite knew her from his days as a newspaperman covering the capital beat. She always sounded uninterested, but he knew that she had her finger on everything that went on with the journalists who worked within the bustle of her domain.
“Yeah, what can I do for you on this fine morning?”
Lynn Ames
“I’ve tried a few of the guys and I can’t seem to get anybody. Where is everyone? Sleeping in this morning?”