Truth (17 page)

Claire’s heart beat rapidly as she
considered the repercussions of her intended actions. For once, she
wasn’t being impetuous. She’d thoroughly debated this decision,
knew her guidelines, her limits, and even wrote them down. Her
stipulations were sitting on the counter in front of her as she
dialed the phone.

Justifiably shocked and
surprised, Meredith Banks willingly dropped everything to speak
with her old sorority sister. Sounding businesslike, yet friendly,
Claire explained her desire to
get her
story out
with someone she could
trust.

Candidly Claire asked, “Meredith, is that
you?”

Without hesitation, Meredith replied,
“Claire, I never doubted your innocence; yes, I would be honored to
help you with this.”

Claire knew Meredith saw
dollar signs and the potential for fame. She needed to know if she
could trust her. To that end, she presented Meredith with a litmus
test. “Before any interviews or work on my story, I want you to
publish a
very
overdue retraction regarding our 2010 interview. I want you
to tell the truth and explain it wasn’t an interview, but an
ambush, resulting in an unauthorized article. The retraction must
also clarify that during our conversation I never mentioned the
name Anthony Rawlings. You made assumptions based solely on
conjecture.” Before Meredith could respond, Claire added, “If and
when I read your published retraction, the exclusive rights to my
story are yours.”

Verbally Meredith agreed. Claire had heard
verbal promises before. She informed Meredith everything would be
summarized in a written contract. The breach of said agreement, by
either side, would result in a hefty financial penalty.

Claire agreed to one
concession. Meredith could promise a
real
interview with Claire Rawlings
Nichols in her printed retraction. Without a doubt,
that
piece of journalism
would reach Tony’s publicist Shelly, and in essence -- Tony.
Eventually they would learn of her interview and impending article
anyway. This plan put Claire in control of the timing and gave her
visibility. She reasoned
visibility
gave the world
cause,
if she suddenly disappeared,
making Anthony Rawlings the most likely suspect.

Claire was no longer hiding or being played
by Tony; for once, she was in control! The two women agreed to meet
for a series of interviews and editorial sessions, after the
publication of the retraction. They left the specific details in
flux.

Smiling, Claire disconnected the call with a
sense of satisfaction. She believed it was the right decision at
the right time. The public had too many misconceptions. They needed
to know the truth. They needed to know the real Anthony Rawlings
before he repeated history with her, or heaven forbid with someone
else.

Satisfied with her call, Claire sipped her
coffee and noticed the blinking icon on her iPad indicating an
email. It was the confirmation of her impending trip. She’d paid
for both the airline and hotel reservations with her new Visa. That
wasn’t done recklessly. Claire knew her plans were now visible. She
even felt a twinge of pride showing her ex-husband her new found
independence. Of course, it was all a ruse; instead of flying into
Corpus Christi where she’d spend her holiday, Claire was flying to
San Antonio, where she’d rent a car, check into a very nice hotel,
and then slip away and drive three hours to the coast. The
deception was for Courtney. The two friends wanted time together,
and their relationship needed to remain clandestine.

Although Claire wasn’t
sure, she believed her movements were being monitored. After all,
Courtney said Tony hired a private detective. And in the two weeks
since Tony’s call, she’d received two lovely floral arrangements.
The first came a few days after their short conversation. It
contained cherry brandy roses, lilies, dark blue delphinium, hot
pink larkspur, silver dollar eucalyptus and no card. Nevertheless,
the meaning was clear...
Tony knew exactly
where she lived
. The second arrangement
came a week later with a card simply stating:
I have business in California soon. Perhaps we could
dine?

Although Amber called it a waste of
beautiful flowers, Claire threw both arrangements directly into the
trash. After her reaction to his call, Claire decided she wasn’t
ready to face him or talk to him, in person or on the telephone.
She could eliminate his voice by disabling her voicemail.
Unfortunately, she still received his text messages. They mostly
consisted of polite greetings to which she never replied. She hated
to admit; even his typed word affected her. Sometimes she missed
the pleasant Tony.

Contradictorily, the voice on the phone that
sent chills down her spine and sent her running to the bathroom.
That Tony she didn’t miss. Besides, Silicon Valley was beautiful in
April with flowers at every turn. They didn’t need flowers indoors
too.

Claire spent her favorite part of each day
walking outside. True, the Palo Alto streets weren’t like hiking in
the Iowa woods. But, it was outside, and as much as she tried,
Claire couldn’t shake the memories of her incarceration. Yet, when
the breeze blew her hair and the sun warmed her face, the chains of
her imprisonment melted away and her wounded spirit began to heal.
With each step in any directions she chose, her lungs filled with
fresh air, and she felt her strength grow beyond that of
pre-prison, to a place -- pre-Tony.

*****

Unbeknownst to Claire, her outings were
diligently photographed and submitted to Mr. Rawlings along with
her daily activities. Phillip Roach had never been paid so well for
so little. Claire’s predictable routine, as well as traceable
internet usage, made for detailed reports and photos. He would
often sit within the same coffee shop or cafe while Ms. Nichols
lived in her own world. A few times Phil worried she saw his
camera, but with the paparazzi vying for her image, he blended into
the crowd.

Mr. Rawlings seemed
pleased with his reports, although not always with their content.
The disclosure regarding the source of Ms. Nichols’ new found
fortune (the sale of her jewelry) was met vehemently. Following Mr.
Rawlings’ directives, Phil returned to Mr. Pulvara’s office. And
although the price seemed extreme, Phil followed orders and
retrieved the rings at
any
cost. Not trusting couriers, Phil personally
delivered the rings to Rawlings Industry corporate offices, in Iowa
City.

While he’d seen the tycoon’s picture and
talked with him on the phone, it was their first face-to-face
meeting. Admittedly, within seconds of entering the CEO’s regal
office, Phil sensed Mr. Rawlings’ commanding dominance. The
expression Phil witnessed as Mr. Rawlings opened the velvet box was
contrary to the millions of photos he’d seen. Obviously, the sale
of his ex-wife’s rings upset him. Thankfully the sparkling diamonds
satisfied Mr. Rawlings and verified Phil’s willingness to complete
directives.

For a split second, Phil worried about the
sweet looking woman who’d become his new dedication. He wondered
how she could end up with someone like the man before him. Although
he’d read every bit of published information, she seemed no match
for Mr. Rawlings’ power.

Phillip Roach learned years ago, not to
include emotions in his line of work. This was emphasized during
military training, reinforced in special ops, and ingrained as he
covertly monitored person after person. Expectantly, his targets
during military and special op usually ceased to exist following
their discovery. Phillip even followed orders and aided in their
demise. This training and dedication earned him the kind of money
he currently demanded. On more than one occasion his work required
his own disappearance. With no personal connections, that wasn’t a
problem. If he relocated or moved for a year or two, it was just
part of the game. His alliances could fulfill any necessary
relocation -- for a price.

This assignment was different. He’d located
his assignment, yet his orders remained reconnaissance. As opposed
to setting the sights of a high powered rifle on the enemy of a
high rolling gambler or a threatening politician, this was well
paid babysitting.

*****

Claire made her way through the crowd and
settled at a small round table near the bar of a local Palo Alto
restaurant. Although Harry and Amber weren’t due for another
fifteen minutes, Claire was ready. Tony made it clear early on, he
had no patience for tardiness. Now, punctuality was her mantra. She
really didn’t think about it, it just was.

While waiting for her friends she ordered a
martini and thought about her ensemble: a pair of slacks and blouse
from Neiman Marcus and a pair of Dior pumps from Saks. Truly, she
was allowing the press to get to her. She wanted to look like Mrs.
Rawlings… to quiet their attack. Suddenly, she worried she was
being photographed from every side.

Last night, when they talked about getting
together before Claire left on her trip, Claire suggested eating at
home. She even offered to cook. She liked cooking and contributing
to the household duties. Her life in Palo Alto was a beautiful
meeting of her previous two, not as tedious as her day to day
survival in Atlanta, nor as opulent as her life in Iowa. It was
real and comfortable – a perfect restart.

However, her friends
insisted on going out to celebrate her impending vacation. They
knew the
press thing
bothered Claire but argued she needed to be free to live her
life, without worrying about other’s perception. After a deep sigh,
Claire agreed.

Lost in her thoughts, Claire didn’t see
Harry until he was right before her with his hand on her shoulder.
Looking up to acknowledge him, she noticed how nice he looked,
wearing a sports coat and button down shirt. His hair was even
gelled and combed back in an attempted style. Before she could
speak, he bent down and kissed her cheek. She felt warmth flow from
her face to her insides as he took a seat across the small
table.

“
Well, hello. That was an
interesting greeting.” She mused.

Harry’s blue eyes sparkled, illuminated in
the low light of the restaurant. “I noticed how nice you look. Is
that a new outfit?” Then he leaned a little closer, “And, that
you’re being watched from a table to your left.” He reached for
her. “Don’t look, it’d be too obvious. I thought I would give them
something to write.”

“
Maybe we should go
somewhere else.” Claire really wanted to say,
I want to go home.

“
This won’t last long. We
can leave, if you want, but I think your plan to make yourself
visible is working. You shouldn’t run from it now.” He squeezed her
trembling hand.

Claire looked at his serene expression and
took comfort in his calmness. She exhaled, “Thank you, for being
such a great sport about this.”

“
Well, like I said, I’ve
never been a celebrity before.”

“
And, how do you like it?”
She couldn’t help notice the twinkle in his intensely blue
eyes.

“
I’m getting used to it.
Just this morning, the barista at Starbucks recognized me and gave
me free coffee.”

Claire giggled, “Are you serious? I’m
supposed to be the penny-less person. Why don’t I get free
coffee?”

“
Well, I’m not exactly
destitute. But,” he mused, “I won’t turn down free
java.”

The waiter came and took Harry’s drink
order. When he asked if they were ready to order, Harry turned to
Claire, “Do you know what you want? Or, do we need some more
time?”

Claire turned to the waiter, “I believe I’d
like a little more time, please.” She slowly picked up her martini
and took a long sip, suddenly unable to make eye-contact.

Harry saw her sudden change in mood, “What’s
wrong?”

“
It’s really stupid.” She
said as she sat her drink back on the linen tablecloth. Peering
above the flickering candle she saw his concerned expression and
gained strength to continue, “I know I don’t talk about my life
with Tony very much. Maybe I’m not sure how I feel. But, from very
early on, actually the first time we ever went out, he ordered my
meal. He ordered my drinks, everything.”

“
Well, some men do that.
Did you like it?”

“
Not at first. I mean, he
never asked me what I wanted. Even on that first date. How could he
possibly know what I liked? Then later, I guess I got used to it.
Other than the first time, I never questioned it.” Claire became
transfixed by the flame of the candle, flickering in the center of
their private haven, moved by some unperceivable breeze.

Harry didn’t know if he should encourage
this conversation. It seemed to make Claire sad. However, it was
the first time she’d opened up about any personal aspect of her
life with Mr. Rawlings. He pushed, “Why?”

Claire looked up from the orange and blue
glow. “Why what?”

“
Why didn’t you question
it? I mean if you didn’t like it, if you wanted to order for
yourself, why didn’t you tell him?”

Claire exhaled.

Harry watched as her eyes and face which
were deep in thought, slowly took on perfect features. He
recognized what she was doing. She was becoming the pretend Claire,
the one who kept others at arm’s length and said everything
perfect.

“
It’s very complicated.
Let’s just say, no one tells Anthony Rawlings what to do or how to
do it.” She picked up her menu, “So what do you think sounds
good?”