Dirty Little Secrets (28 page)

Megan’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?” It was working. They were making it work. She was messed up but James was patient, and accepting…and loving. And now she might cry. Shit.

Ben cocked his head to the side and looked at her with sympathetic eyes, condescending eyes. “You know why, Megs.”

Megan sat up. “No, I don’t know why. Why couldn’t it work?”

Ben made a tut sound. “Come on, Megs. Don’t do this. You know why.”

She shook her head. “No, tell me why.” There was no reason why she could not have a happy healthy relationship with James Emerson. The last few weeks had proved that. They were just an ordinary couple in an extraordinary circumstance. The only reason they were not together now was Ben.

Ben shrugged his shoulders. “For starters he is James Emerson. You have seen him, right?”

Megan laughed bitterly. That was what it was about, she wasn’t good enough for James. Except she knew she was. “Yes he is. And he picked me. Plain Megan. A gorgeous, rich, kind, wonderful man picked me. He loves me.”

Ben shook his head, a look of pity pulling down on his brown eyes. “Don’t kid yourself, Megan. I love you but—”

“But what?” she demanded. A fire had been lit in her. ‘I love you’ should not always come with ‘but’. It always did with Ben and it had with Pete.

“Megan, you are not cut out for relationships. Even if you were, how long do you think it would take James to get tired of…whatever this is.”

Megan took a deep breath to push down her anger, but it only burned hotter. “Why would he get tired of this?” She slapped her hands to her chest. “What’s wrong with me? Why am I not good enough? I’m good enough to cover your messes. I’m good enough to hold you when you cry about the relationship you fucked up. I’m good enough to help you lie to the world about who you are. I have even helped you lie to yourself. You are gay, Ben, and that isOK. There is nothing wrong with you. And there is nothing wrong with me.”

Ben recoiled as if she had struck him. She had crossed a line she never had before, they never talked in terms of sexuality. For years they had ignored the elephant in the room. Ben did not want the world to know about his sexuality because he would have to face it himself. “Don’t take this out on me, Megan. I am only trying to help.”

“Who are you trying to help? Because you aren’t helping me. And you’re not helping yourself. Have you ever wondered why you chose a career where you have to hide who you are? You could go back into law and make a lot more money and no one will care about who you’re sleeping with. You could have a happy healthy relationship with a man. But you chose a path that would validate your decision to stay in the closet. You’re gay, Ben. You are not bi-curious. You are not a straight man who enjoys sex with men. You are gay. You always have been, you always will be. And there is absolutely nothing wrong with that.”

Ben’s hands balled in tight fists, rage or embarrassment causing his body to shake. He thrust a finger in her face. “After everything I’ve done for you, this is how you pay me back?”

“Ben, I am grateful. I’ll always be grateful. But there is nothing wrong with either of us. We have had each other convinced that we are both so unworthy of love that no one would take either of us. But that isn’t true. We can’t keep doing this. I found someone and so will you, once you except who you are.”

“Shut up!” Ben roared. His nostrils flared and the veins in his neck stood taut, pulsing with every forceful beat. He stepped closer. “I know you’re upset because your imaginary boyfriend has come to his senses. But don’t take it out on me. You were a trailer park slut when I met you. Don’t ever forget that.”

Megan nodded. “Yes I was, and look how far I’ve come. Shame we can’t say the same about you. You were a closeted gay man when I met you and you’re a bitter paranoid closeted gay man now. It’s over, Ben. We both need to stop running.” Megan turned and walked away. There was nothing more she could say. They had hurt each other enough; their words had deteriorated to an arsenal in a cold war.

Chapter Seventeen

Megan’s neck burned from the intensity of the light trained on her. The rest on the room was dark save for the perfectly positioned bulbs that lit up her face and the face of the man opposite her. There were dozens of crew dotted around the studio but mercifully they were all hidden in the shadows. She could almost pretend they were not there, the same way she was pretending that millions of people would not be seeing her.

“Are you ready to start, Mrs. McCoy?” Peter Collins asked. He looked different to how he did on the television, older and smaller. She had never noticed the way his watery blue eyes were clouded by the sheen of cataracts or the way his left hand shook slightly as he held the cue cards.

She opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out. She cleared her throat before she nodded. A make-up artist came up beside her and dusted another layer of foundation along her forehead. “Sorry,” Megan mumbled. She was sweating, maybe from the lights or maybe because she was about to tape a segment for
The Hour
, but she could not stop, and she was making the woman’s life hard. She would never be camera ready if she didn’t get it together. She closed her eyes and took a long deep breath. She counted to ten as she forced air slowly into her lungs. She could do this. No more running. No more shame.

“I’m ready.”

Peter Collins nodded “All right, we will start with a video clip encapsulating the events of the week and then we will cut to you to get your take.”

Megan nodded. There was a lot of media coverage to pick from. For days every network in the country had done stories on Ben McCoy, every network except the ones owned by GMN. GMN had not done a single story on her or Ben. Every other paper, every other station, had a reporter camped on her lawn, shouting things day and night.

“Thank you for coming today, Mrs. McCoy. I think it would be an understatement to say this week has been eventful for you. Can you tell us a little bit about how you have coped with the events of the last few days?”

Megan cleared her throat again. “Thank you for having me.” She stopped to take a breath. Her heart hammered against her ribs. She closed her eyes but all she could see were the faces of viewers at home, gawking, scrutinising, judging. And there was so much to judge.

She gave her head a terse shake. What people thought didn’t matter. She didn’t know them. They did not pay her bills. They could think whatever they wanted. “It has been difficult. But…” She paused to consider her words. “Liberating.”

Collins’ head cocked in interest. “Liberating? In what way?”

Megan licked her lips to wet her dry mouth. She needed water. And she needed to get away. No, she wanted to get away. She needed to face this, take control, and honour a promise she had made to James. Her heart constricted when she thought of him. She had not seen him since the night they were supposed to leave for Australia. She wasn’t even sure he was still in DC. But she would do this for him…and for her. She would always be scared until she faced it.

“Liberating in the way that only the truth can be,” she said at last.

“Is it fair to say you and Senator McCoy have been living a lie for the last five years?”

She paused. She could say something philosophical about most people presenting idealised versions of themselves, or she could give a political answer and waffle on without saying anything of substance, but this was about the truth. “That would be a fair statement.”

“Take us back to the moment of the Senator’s arrest.”

Instantly she was back in the moment. She could see the officers at her door, hear them read Ben his Miranda rights. As she hoped, he was released without being charged but the damage had been done. Someone notified the media, and after that, Ben’s world collapsed. The final nail in the coffin was Chad coming forward about their relationship with a tell-all on primetime. After that, there was no going back. Mercifully the attention had focused on Ben, until now.

Megan reached for a pitcher of water that was sitting on the table beside her and poured herself a glass. “My first thought was how sad I was that it has come to this. Ben is a brilliant man who has served his country with honour and integrity as a senator. He would have brought the same dedication and ability to the White House. I am sad that he won’t be serving his country in that capacity.” There was more she could say, about bigotry and fear, but she left it unsaid.

In the distance a microphone crashed to the floor. Megan’s head snapped up as crew members hurried to right the equipment. Voices began murmuring and she could hear rather than see the commotion of scurrying around in the blackened studio.

Suddenly the stage was filled with a large presence. Megan’s breath caught as she realised who it was. “James!” she gasped.

He had a face like thunder. His jaw clenched tight in an angry grimace. His eyes were bloodshot and his chin was covered in a dark shadow of a beard. He looked like a caged animal ready to strike out at any moment. The energy surrounding him was like a force field keeping everyone at a distance.

Her hands ached to reach for him, to hold him, but she couldn’t, not after the way she had ended it.

“What the hell are you doing?” he seethed.

Megan’s back straightened. From the corner of her eye she saw Peter Collins cower. The seasoned journalist might be afraid of James, but she wasn’t.

She looked James square in the eye. “I am giving the interview I promised. I’m sorry if your employees don’t keep you in the loop.” She forced herself to maintain eye contact so he would not know she was lying. She agreed to appear on
The Hour
on the condition that James Emerson was not informed. She was assured by the executive producer and the host that it wasn’t a problem. Clearly one of them was not telling the truth.

“Like hell you are, Megan. What are you playing at?”

Silence fell in the studio, everyone waiting for Megan’s response. Everyone was listening, wanting to know her business, and she didn’t care. She lifted her chin in defiance. “I am protecting the one man I have ever really cared about. Now if you would please leave so I can continue. Or you can sit in and watch. Either way is fine. What is one more to witness my demise?”

James’ eyes narrowed to tight slits, anger radiating from every pore. “Out!” he shouted. He turned and faced the crew and shouted again. “Now!” Within seconds, people were frantically scurrying off the sound stage. Even Peter Collins, who had interviewed heads of state and condemned felons, could not leave fast enough.

“What the fuck are you doing?” James demanded when the stage was clear. He was hovering above her, his presence sucking up the air around them, making it hard for her to breathe or concentrate.

She slid off the chair and stood to her full height, a pathetic attempt to level the playing field as he still dwarfed her by nearly a foot. “I told you what I’m doing. Please let me finish the interview. You’re not making it any easier. Just let me get this over with.”

“I’m not going to let you use my station for any of your bullshit propaganda. You’ve made a mess, sweetheart. Leave me the fuck out of it.”

Megan let the sting of his words hit her. She deserved it. She had hurt him. He had given her a choice, an out, and she had pissed it away. “Actually this isn’t about my mess. This is about me doing the right thing and protecting someone…” Her voice faltered. “This is about protecting someone I care deeply about.”

James ran his hand over his chin and swore. “For fuck’s sake, Megan. When are you going to learn? How many times are you going to let him kick you while you’re down? When are you going to stop being his whipping boy? Your debt has been paid. You owe him nothing. You’re making an ass of yourself for no reason.”

She could not stop herself from reaching up and running her hand along the course stubble along his jaw. “Have you given up shaving?” It had only been ten days since she had seen him but it felt longer, the distance between them greater.

His large hand covered hers, warm and strong. His eyes closed, and for a brief moment he held her hand under his, before he pushed her away.

“You always pick Ben. That’s sad. You would rather be used than let yourself be loved.” His words were so low she had to strain to hear them.

Megan shook her head. Her heart hurt, full of emotion that had no place any more. “Not this time. This time I’m picking the truth. I’m picking integrity…and courage. I’m picking me…I’m picking you.”

James’ dark brow shot up in question.

“The truth has a way of catching up with you. No matter how fast I am, I can’t outrun it. And I’m tired of trying.”

James held up his hands in exasperation. “What does that mean, Megan? I just came in off a twenty-four-hour flight from Sydney. I don’t have time to deal with this shit now.”

Megan grabbed his hand and pulled it down to her lips, pressing a soft kiss against his palm. “GMN has not done a single story on me, or Ben for that matter. I can’t be the only one who noticed.”

James remained silent.

“Someone will figure it out. Your honesty and integrity are two of the things I admire most about you. I am not going to let you lose that for anyone. Not even me.” She took a deep breath. He was here, in front of her, close enough to touch. She was scared she would never see him again, never be able to apologise and make it right. But he was here. He may never forgive her. She had no right to even hope it, but she needed to try to make it right. “I am doing this interview so no one can every accuse you of manipulating the media. Remember the first night we met and you told me that if there was a story you reported it, no matter what?”

He shook his head. He looked tired and broken. The normally soft lines around his mouth looked harsh. It was hard to imagine that mouth breaking into a carefree smile. “I remember. But it doesn’t matter, Megan. You don’t have to do this.”

She stopped him by placing her index finger on his parted lips. “I do have to do it because I want to. It’s all I have to give. I can do this for you. I need to give this to you.”

James shook his head again. “You don’t owe me anything.”