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I looked at the text, emotions swirling in my gut. Who could I trust? Law had given me Jameson’s info, and it was clear that Law was working for Morris. I slammed my hands against the steering wheel in frustration, a small scream escaping my mouth.
As the light turned green, I did an illegal turn. I ignored the honking and drove toward The Time’s office. I didn’t like the idea of loose ends, and Jameson was a very loose end. He had my name and knew I had a story. Though he didn’t know exactly what my story was, he was tied to Law. I still wasn’t sure what Law’s endgame was. Plus, what was stopping Jameson from leaking my info to Morris, or worse, starting another media shit storm about me?
Answer: nothing.
As I rode the elevator up, I ran my fingers through my hair fretfully. I had dealt with this for nearly a year, but apparently had learned nothing. I was still the same naive girl as before, trusting men I shouldn’t have been trusting. When was I going to learn that the only person in the world who had my back was me? I was my castle, my keeper, and my sovereign. It was a lonely existence, but it was better than constantly being fucked over.
The elevator dinged open and I made my way down the banal hallway. I walked past foggy office windows with boring names, looking for the boring name that held all my information. I passed through the large, square room of cubicles, and no one paid me any mind. I was grateful for that. Only months ago those vultures would have pounced on me, trying to rip at my flesh for a hint of a story.
I rounded a corner and I neared my destination. I was about to knock Jameson’s door, when muffled voices stopped me. I could faintly hear the sounds of a disagreement coming through the wood. I lowered my hand and pressed my ear against the door.
“The fuck man?”
I stumbled back, stunned. Law was on the other side of the door, and he was yelling at Jameson. Up to that point, I hadn’t thought Law knew Jameson, mostly because Law said he didn’t know Jameson. Then again, Law had said a lot of things to me, a lot of things that had turned out to be lies. So why was I surprised?
I used to think a person could only handle so many shocks. That there was a certain allotment of twists and turns a person got in their life. Like, once a person found out their biological father wasn’t the man who raised them, that was it. No more shocks for that person for the rest of their life. I knew better now. After all the twists and turns and general shittery of the past year, I knew life didn’t allocate anything. Life just happened.
I put my ear back on the door, sucking it up.
“Do you see the shit she’s tied up in?” I recognized that voice as belonging to Jameson.
“Yeah. It’s good,” Law responded. “It’s Watergate good.”
“I don’t want Watergate!” Jameson yelled. “I’m in the same ward as Morris. He’s a nice guy!” I nearly rolled my eyes at that revelation. Jameson admitted that he and Morris went to the same church. Pulitzer Prize-winning or not, he was just like every other reporter before him, blinded by the glow that was Senator Mitch Morris.
I didn’t have it in me to care, to be outraged, to be disgusted. I was normalized by it. He was just another reporter who saw me as a whore and Morris as the good guy. There was nothing surprising about that, and I would have been lying if I’d said I wasn’t expecting it. My fingers rested lightly on the wood, ready to tear myself away from yet another disappointment, when Law’s thundering voice pulled me back in.
“When I sent her to you I thought you had balls. What happened to the Jameson I knew? The one reporting on human traffickers and political lies and actually doing shit? What happened to my best friend?”
I pulled back from the door, genuinely shocked. Jameson was Law’s best friend? What the hell did that mean? My heart was beating fast again, and if I didn’t get it under control I was going to have a panic attack. It sounded like Law was helping me, like he wanted Jameson to run my story. I shook my head at that; I knew better now than to take things at face value. When I got raped, everyone decided to lie.
Or…and this was the thought that kept me up at night…what if I had gotten raped and now saw what the world didn?
??t want me to see? What if this was how it had always been, but it took trauma to force the false reality away? Lies on top of lies on top of more lies. People who lied with no rhyme or reason. People who lied simply because they could. I gulped, suppressing my fears and tears, and pressed my ear against the door once more.
“He got married and had a baby,” Jameson said. “Fuck, Nick. I didn’t know this is what you meant when you said you had a story you were sending me. If I report on this I’ll be ostracized—” Jameson was abruptly cut off. I heard shuffling and then the sound of a large weight being thrown against the wall.
“You’re weak,” Law growled. “What kind of example are you setting for your baby? You have a duty to the republic. You’re supposed to be keeping the politicians in check. I expect to see this shit in the papers.”
“Don’t tell me what to do Law,” Jameson growled back.
“Don’t make me tell you what to do! Grow a pair and do it on your own!” What sounded like a slam followed Law’s words, and then silence. I kept my ear pressed to the door for another minute, but neither said a word. When I heard shuffling of feet, I quickly turned and walked away. I no longer wanted to meet with Jameson, at least not then. There was too much to think about.
As I made my way to the elevator, my mind was reeling. If Law was working with Morris, then why would he want my story out? I had been certain he was working for Morris. Everything pointed to that. His clandestine meetings with Becca were just the cherry on top of the shit sundae.
So why say he loved me? Why help get my story out? I skipped the elevator and took the staircase, taking the steps two at a time. Law was a liar, that much was clear. In my experience, people only lie when they either have something to hide or when they want something done. Neither scenario ends up well for the person being lied to who, in this instance, is me.
I waited outside the building until I saw Jameson leave. After months of following Morris, I’d gotten pretty good at tailing people. Four hours after the confrontation with Law, Jameson left the building. He boarded the metro and I followed the train for ten stops.
Jameson walked a few blocks until he arrived at a quaint brick house with a picket fence. A fucking picket fence. I hopped out of my car and rounded on him before he could reach the front door.
“Jameson,” I said to his back. He jumped, startled, and turned around. I wasn’t totally certain of my plan, but Jameson was mixed up in my shit. He very clearly had ties to the Mormon church, and even more clearly, Law. It was obvious now that Law was twat monkey number one in my life. If Jameson had any answers to questions that needed answering, I was going to find out.
Or, I was going to silence him before he did something destructive.
“Miss DeGrace?” Jameson asked, turning around to face me. “What are you doing here?”
“What the hell are you planning?” I spat.
