Chapter 25 #2
“What smells so good?” I ask.
“My world-famous French toast casserole with sausage,” he says.
“World famous? That’s a high ass standard.”
“I can live up to it. It’s almost done. I just need to scramble these eggs.”
The coffee and eggs finish around the same time and the casserole is ready a few minutes later.
World famous barely describes how savory, sweet, and delicious the casserole is.
It practically melts in my mouth. He takes syrup from the pantry but I don’t use a drop.
The casserole is perfection and doesn’t need anything.
When we’re done eating, we clean up the kitchen together.
I insisted but he wouldn’t let me do it alone.
Then I refill our coffees and we drink them snuggled up on the sectional in the living room.
We enjoy the morning doing absolutely nothing.
The television is on but neither one of us is watching.
“What am I going to tell Duke when he gets here?” I ask.
“The same thing you said at the debate. Nothing. That shit will blow over because Richardson doesn’t have any proof.”
“He has to have something,” I say. “I just don’t know what. Giselle’s system is top tier. Her niece is a cybersecurity genius and she runs all technology for Giselle. And Giselle doesn’t reveal anything. She doesn’t play about her clients’ privacy. So I don’t know where he got his info.”
“He doesn’t have any. Think about it; if he did, he would have revealed it when he had an audience.
The debate was broadcast live locally. He had all of Crescent Falls tuned in and he only made an allegation.
He’s bluffing. An attorney with a weak case bluffs.
If the case is strong and you have the smoking gun, you yell that shit.
He’s bluffing, kyau, but because I know how important this is, I have Max looking into it to confirm my suspicion. ”
“Baby, you are?” I ask.
“Of course.”
“You’re really taking care of me today.”
“Today, tomorrow, forever. It’s my job and pleasure to take care of you. We take care of each other.” He kisses my forehead then says, “Now, let’s go change. I can’t have Duke seeing all my goodies.” He squeezes the side of my hip.
“I don’t think you have anything to worry about,” I say. I’m pretty sure Duke has his own man at home.
We both change and I notify security of Duke’s pending arrival. At two minutes to eleven, he’s knocking on my door. My husband answers and lets him in. He gets right to business before his butt even meets the cushion of my sectional.
“The good news is that there’s no definitive statements in the news outlets. No one is running the story of Richardson’s allegation because there’s no proof. No one is willing to risk being sued by a judge. I know you saw the WCF-TV recap this morning; they didn’t mention it either.”
“I didn’t watch it,” I admit and Duke looks like he’s about to faint.
“Why? I know you’re not conceding,” Duke says.
“Of course not. I just didn’t want to waste my morning looking at all of that. Besides, I knew you would and give me the details,” I admit. “I’m one hundred percent not conceding. I’m more in the fight now.” I squeeze my husband’s hand.
“We’re all in,” my husband adds.
“Okay,” Duke says while shaking his head. “Then let’s talk damage control. I thought I knew everything about you, so that was a surprise. Now?—”
“You still know everything about me,” I interject. “I have never been a sex worker. That was bullshit and a way to undermine me. He was losing and tossed out a red herring.”
“Probably because of your affiliation with Madame Giselle. We’ve been able to navigate around that until now. Until election day, you need to distance yourself from her,” he says and I am offended instantly.
“Her name is Giselle. No damn madame, just Giselle. She’s my best friend and she’s not something to navigate around.
For the last time, she runs a successful, legal business in the city and she isn’t the one lying, Richardson and his camp are.
She’s off limits. Whatever your plan is, exclude her from it. Are we clear, Duke?” I grit.
“We are but I wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t suggest it. You have to know that,” he argues and I nod. I understand his position but I don’t agree at all. “Then, we do plan b.”
“And what’s that?” my husband asks.
“We make an official statement denying the allegation and campaign. We will increase the frequency of ads and I need you to open your courtroom. The majority of your hearings are closed. Can you open a few more to the public?”
“And turn my courtroom into a circus? Absolutely not. It’s criminal court, which means there are often victims in that room. I will not subject them to objectification. Next strategy.”
“Okay, scratch that,” he says, then swipes across his iPad. “More public appearances. I’ll check around for upcoming local events and get you two in the rooms. That’s if you’re okay with that?” He nods toward my husband.
“I’ll do whatever is needed,” Quintus says.
“Thank you, baby.”
“But I need us to hold off on the statement. My investigator is looking into the allegation. I want to know where the hell it came from.”
“Your investigator?” Duke asks with surprise.
“Yes and she’s the best. Give me at least forty-eight.”
“And knowing where it came from does what?” Duke asks.
“That’s not your concern,” is all my husband says.
Just like the public, Duke will never know about the dinner date if we can help it.
As innocent as it was, the mention of or admittance to it would give Richardson’s lie some credence.
My husband is right. Without proof, Richardson’s statement doesn’t mean shit.
So there’s no need to tell Duke anything more.
Hopefully, Max finds out what Richardson really knows and how he found it out.
“Okay. Forty-eight hours, but I’ll start drafting now for your review and revision. I’ll look for upcoming events that might be impactful and get back to you,” Duke says, then stands. “We can still win.”
“I know and thank you for everything,” I say and mean it.
He’s truly good at his job and I appreciate his dedication to my re-election.
Quintus lets Duke out then walks over to me.
He doesn’t sit. Instead, he leans in close to me.
He examines my face and reads me. “What?” I ask, wondering what he sees.
“Go see Giselle,” he says.
“How did you know I need to talk to her?”
“Because I know my wife.”
He kisses my forehead, then walks into the kitchen. I head to my bedroom to grab my cell and tote. He’s still in the kitchen when I return to the living room but he’s on the phone.
He mouths, “Max,” and I nod before walking over and kissing him.
“I’ll be right back,” I whisper before leaving.