Power Play: A Novel (37 page)

She stormed around her house that night, slamming doors and opening closets. She was happy that she’d never let him move in, although they’d discussed it as an eventual possibility, but she would have thrown him out now. She did laundry that night and did it too hot and fried it. She put dinner in the microwave and burned it. She got in the bath and ran it too hot. She thought of sending him an e-mail to confirm what an asshole he was, and she didn’t, and she didn’t hear from him either, not a word of apology or even a text, and she didn’t care. She would never forgive him for breaking his word, and violating her trust. She suddenly realized that she was no better than Harding Williams, who’d been sleeping with a journalist and told her confidential information. Now she had done almost the same thing. The only difference was that she wasn’t married and cheating, and she hadn’t divulged the secrets of her own company, but she passed along gossip, and in her opinion, what Logan had
done was worse. He had used her as an “undisclosed source,” no matter how hotly he denied it, and broken his word to her.

She lay awake thinking about it all night and was even angrier in the morning, at him and herself. She was sorry she’d ever gotten involved with him at all. She had a tennis date with Jillian, and she wanted to cancel it, but decided to go after all. She got out of her car at the tennis courts looking like a storm cloud, and her sister winced.

“Oh dear, it doesn’t look like a good day. Something wrong?”

“I’m fine,” Fiona said, and headed for the court. She opened with a serve that nearly took her sister’s head off, and Jillian jumped back.

“Jesus Christ! What happened to you? Are we at war?”

“No, I’m just pissed,” Fiona admitted, and served again, almost as hard.

“Lovers’ quarrel?” Jillian asked her.

“It’s over. I don’t want to talk about it. He’s an asshole.”

“I’m sorry to hear it. Anything I can do to help?” Jillian liked Logan, and she hoped the rift would only be temporary. But Fiona looked homicidal. Jillian hadn’t seen her sister in a temper like that in years. She won the tennis game, but at what price glory.

They stopped to talk for a few minutes afterward. “He used me as a source,” Fiona finally told her. “He gave me his word in the beginning that he never would, and he did.”

“Are you sure?” Jillian looked surprised. “With all due respect, the guy is a pro. He probably has better snitches in his pocket than you.”

“No, it was me,” Fiona said, and suddenly looked depressed. “And I like him too. I even love him, that’s the bitch of it. But I won’t go back to him. It’s over. I won’t be with a guy I can’t trust. Besides, it’s too dangerous for me if he’s going to quote me over breakfast.”

“I’m really sorry,” Jillian said. She felt bad for her. Beneath the rage, Fiona looked so disappointed. It broke Jillian’s heart to see it, and Logan seemed like such a great guy, but a reporter was a reporter, and, in her experience, they weren’t people you could trust. Occupational hazard.

Fiona left a few minutes later and went back to her house. She found Logan sitting outside, although she had given him a key. He handed it to her as she walked by him.

“I came to give you back the key,” he said tersely. And he looked as grim as she did. “And this,” he said, handing her an envelope. “I want you to know that I’ve never divulged a source in my life. Ever. I don’t do that. I protect my sources, but I wanted to show you something, because I’m not going to have you think I break my word. I don’t. The material I got from my source is in there. I wanted you to see it. I gave you what he sent me, and I blacked out his name because I won’t betray a source even to you. But you can see what he sent me, and how thorough it is. I pay him a bundle to leak information to me, and it’s worth every penny I pay him.”

“Isn’t that illegal?” she asked him coldly.

“Maybe. But that’s how it works. It’s how I make my living, and how he beefs up his. It’s a system that works. So thanks anyway,” he said, turned on his heel, and left. She watched him drive away, and she was still holding the envelope when she walked inside and sat down at the kitchen table. She opened it and found an e-mail Logan had printed up, from someone at UPI. The name was blacked out, but it was from corporate offices, which was shocking in itself. She read the e-mail, and everything he had used in the article was in there, almost verbatim. The source at UPI had spilled his guts and told Logan everything he knew. Everything she had said to him was
there too, and infinitely more. What she could see from reading it was that Logan had told her the truth. He hadn’t lied or broken his word. He hadn’t used her as a source. He had waited and gotten the whole story from the very indiscreet executive of UPI. And as she read it, Fiona felt sick. She didn’t know what to do as she sat there. She tore the printed e-mail into tiny pieces and threw it in the garbage. She thought of sending him an e-mail or a text, but she felt stupid. She had been wrong, and had accused him of something he didn’t do. She owed him an apology. Even if they never saw each other again after that, she had to at least tell him she was sorry for accusing him of betraying her. He hadn’t.

She picked up her purse, and went out to her car, and drove to the city. She got to his apartment and rang the bell, and he wasn’t there, so she sat down on the stoop and waited. Two hours later she saw him coming down the street, carrying groceries, and he saw her before he got there. When he got to her, he could see that she wasn’t angry anymore. She looked deeply apologetic, and was near tears.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said those terrible things to you. I thought you used me.” Her eyes were full of the sorrow she felt for having accused him, and he looked very hurt.

“I wouldn’t do that to you, Fiona. I gave you my word. That’s sacred to me. And so are you.” He looked sad as he said it and put the groceries down on the front step. “I would never break my word to you.” And as he said it, he held his arms out to her, ready to forgive her. And she flew into them, ready to do the same. It was their first big fight, and they had come through it battered and bloodied, but still loving each other. And then he pulled away and looked down at her. “You called me a lowlife and a worm,” he said, and he was laughing.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” She looked sheepish and embarrassed.

“I’ve been called a lot worse. That’s pretty tame. Do you want to come up? I was going to cook dinner.” She followed him upstairs, and they made dinner together and talked about his source at UPI. She was still shocked at what was written to Logan in the e-mail.

“How could he do something like that? He completely violated his position!”

“People do. That’s how I do what I do. People talk. Some of my best sources are people in high positions.”

“We fired Harding Williams for that. Well, we let him resign. He was our boardroom leak.”

“I knew you fired him, or squeezed him out! I never believed that bullshit about ‘ill health.’ ” He was grinning. But the story wasn’t interesting enough to pursue. That had been way at the beginning, after the first time she had lunch with him, and he had called her the day after Harding had resigned as chairman. “You lied to me.” He laughed. “You’re a lousy source, Fiona. I’d never use you,” he said seriously.

“I know that now. I’m sorry.”

They slept in his bed that night, and went back to Portola in the morning. Jillian called her that night to see how she was, and she said that she was fine, and she and Logan were cooking dinner.

“Ahh … so you two made up?” She sounded pleased to hear it.

“Yeah. I was wrong. He didn’t use me as a source. He had a much better one.”

“I’m glad to hear it. And don’t ever play with me again after you have a fight with him. You damn near killed me. One of your serves nearly took my head off.”

“I’m sorry.” Fiona laughed. They hung up, and Fiona went back to the kitchen to help Logan with dinner. “That was Jillian. I was so mad, I beat her at tennis yesterday.” He smiled and handed her a glass of wine. “What’s for dinner?” He had brought his groceries from the city, and had been busy at the stove without her.

“Crow,” he said. “I made you an extra big serving.” She laughed, set down the glass of wine, and put her arms around him, and he kissed her. “I love you, Fiona, even if you called me a worm and a lowlife. I’ll have to think of a suitable punishment for that. But I have another idea first.” He turned off the stove, and she had the same idea as she followed him to her bedroom. The fight was over. They both won, particularly in bed.

Marshall went through security at the San Francisco airport and thought that it was the last time he would ever have to do that. His new plane was being delivered to him as soon as he got to Boston. This was the last commercial flight he’d have to take, and he knew he wouldn’t miss it. He boarded the plane with the rest of the first-class passengers on the flight to Boston. He was wearing a suit and carrying an overcoat, and the flight crew had already been advised of who he was, and greeted him accordingly, as soon as he stepped on the plane.

There was a young woman in the seat next to him, and she noticed immediately the flight attendants making a fuss over him. They offered him a glass of champagne, which he declined, and hung up his coat for him, and he settled into the seat next to her and discreetly looked her over. She looked to be in her mid-twenties, and she was wearing a Balenciaga jacket and jeans and high heels with red soles. She was a pretty girl, and he commented lightly when they took off that he usually sat next to the air marshal, and this must be
his lucky day to be sitting next to her instead. She laughed and put down the magazine she’d been reading. She said she was going to Boston to visit her mother, who lived there.

“So do I. Or I will be.” He smiled at her again. “I’m moving there for a new job,” he said modestly, but she already knew he was someone important. His suit was impeccably cut, and his shoes looked expensive and were perfectly shined. His haircut was flawless, and he was wearing a gold watch. She didn’t know who he was, but everything about him exuded power and success. “How long will you be in Boston?” he asked her, as they settled into their seats for the flight, and he was suddenly a little less unhappy to be flying commercial. It had given him the chance to meet her.

“I don’t know yet. A few weeks. Maybe longer. I might look for a job there.” She was vague and a little shy, and she realized that he was about the age of her father. But everything about Marshall was exciting. He had the vitality of a young man, enhanced by his self-assurance and charm.

“What kind of work do you do?” he asked her.

“I used to model. I’ve been a personal assistant for the last year. I’ve been thinking about going to art school.” She was all over the map, but Marshall didn’t care. She had long dark hair that framed her face and hung down her back. She was a very pretty girl, and she looked at him with wide eyes. “What do you do?” she asked innocently.

“I run a company,” he said, smiling at her, as she moved a little closer to him, without even realizing that she had. He could see the delicate sweep of her white throat, and the shadow of a breast and a lacy bra inside the Balenciaga jacket she had left partially unbuttoned.

“That must be exciting,” she said, smiling at him.

“Sometimes,” he acknowledged, wondering what it would be like to kiss her. It was more exciting knowing that he could have her if he wanted, or any woman on the plane once they knew who he was, what he did for a living, and how much they paid him to do it. It was like shooting fish in a barrel. It was so easy.

He talked to her for a while, and then he closed his eyes and slept, and when he woke up, she was watching a movie. He gazed at her for a while, and then with the slightest gesture, as though by accident, he touched her hand, and she turned and smiled at him, and took her earphones off.

“I’d love to see you in Boston,” he said softly. “Maybe we could have dinner sometime.”

“I’d like that very much,” she said, feeling breathless. And a few minutes later she handed him her mother’s number on a slip of paper, and her cell phone number. He nodded and slipped it in his pocket.

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” he promised. “Would you like a ride into town?” he asked her as an afterthought, and she nodded, wide-eyed again. “I have a car and driver waiting.”

“I was going to take a cab.”

“You don’t have to do that. I’ll drop you off on my way. I’m staying at the Ritz Carlton.” He gave her his card then with his cell phone number on it. And she put it in her purse and went back to watching the movie.

They talked while they were having dinner, and when they landed, she followed him off the plane. It happened just the way he had expected. He helped her with her bags at the baggage claim, and his driver took them from her. And moments later they sped away, and
she had stars in her eyes as she looked at him. He was the most exciting man she’d ever met. And to Marshall, she was just another pretty girl, easy prey, and a nice way to begin his life in Boston.

She thanked him profusely when he dropped her off at a nice house in Beacon Hill. She was a girl from a good family with a little money. She would be just right for the beginning, and maybe for a while. He would call her, and take her to dinner. He called her on her cell phone before he got to the hotel.

“I miss you already, Sandy,” he said into the phone, and he could hear the catch in her voice when she answered.

“Thank you, Marshall.” She sounded as though she had won the lottery, and she thought she had, for a man as impressive looking as he was to even notice her and want to take her out.

“See you tomorrow night?”

“I’d love that.” She sounded as though she meant it.

“I’ll pick you up at seven-thirty,” he promised. And after dinner, they would go to his hotel. And when she woke up in the morning, she wouldn’t believe that it had happened, that a man like him wanted her. It was so easy to begin it, and much harder to end it, but he didn’t have to worry about that now. It was all a new beginning. Boston, the job, the girl, his new plane. He smiled to himself as they arrived at the hotel. The manager was waiting outside, and he was treated like royalty. Boston Technology had reserved the penthouse suite for him, and when he looked around, he knew it was exactly what he deserved. And he could already imagine the girl from the plane in it. Sandy. It was perfect. And all he needed for now. His new life had just begun.