Fatherless: A Novel (23 page)

Antonio went on to trace the growth of the NEXT infrastructure from the first few clinics in New York, Los Angeles, and Phoenix
into progressively smaller communities. The company achieved its stated goal of opening three hundred clinics within twelve
months. Thousands of high-paying jobs were created as contractors bid for renovation projects and elder-care workers moved
up the food chain to become transition specialists. And all of it was funded by a deluge of cash previously trickling from
retirement and medical savings accounts.

A faint ping interrupted Julia’s reading. The cabin lights gradually rose and the other first-class passengers woke to the
captain’s voice inviting the flight attendants to prepare for landing. Julia glanced at the clock on her tablet. An early
arrival.

Anticipating the next voice on the intercom, Julia closed the
MUSINGS
file to store the tablet in the carry-on bag lying at her feet. With the touch of a button her seat gently eased itself toward
an upright position as she pondered Antonio’s final years. He seemed genuinely excited each time the Youth Initiative cleared
another hurdle toward passage. He tracked the progress of the transition industry like a teenager anticipating opening day
of a summer action flick. What would he have thought of Jeremy’s lawsuit? What would he have said to men like Kevin Tolbert
who, Julia assumed, would have restricted his right to volunteer?

She closed her eyes as the wheels met the awaiting runway. An image flashed, echoing her dream of hellish descent. Forcing
her eyes open again, she thought of a teenage boy eager for death and wondered what kind of images had greeted the closing
eyes of Antonio Santos.

It was
nearly ten o’clock in the morning before Julia forced herself out of bed and into the shower. Arriving home somewhere between
midnight and morning, she had instinctively turned off her alarm clock before falling into a welcome slumber. She had hoped
to get an early start writing, possibly completing a first draft before dinner. That wasn’t going to happen. A late start
teamed up with writer’s block. By four o’clock Julia was staring lethargically at a paragraph containing forced, clunky prose.

I bet words are flying effortlessly onto Monica’s page.

She heard a rap on her closed door followed by Maria’s perky voice. “Hey, Sis. Are you about ready?”

Ready?

“They’ll be here in half an hour,” Maria continued.

“Who?”

“What do you mean who?” Maria opened the door, her face forming into a reprimand after noticing Julia’s jeans and baggy sweatshirt.
“You aren’t even close to ready. Didn’t you read my note?”

Note?

Maria crossed her arms. “I knew you got in late so I didn’t want to wake you before I left for work. I put a note right next
to your toothbrush so you would be sure to see it.”

Julia ran her tongue across her teeth and blushed at the exhaustion-induced oversight.

“Sorry, Sis. What’s in the note?”

That’s when she noticed Maria’s outfit, an obvious clue to the mystery.

“Fin has a really cute roommate named Craig Gilman. They want to go dancing at the club tonight.”

Julia rolled her eyes in disbelief. “And you said I’d go?”

“Of course! All work and no play makes you a boring writer. You need to get out.”

“Maria!”

“Did I mention he’s really cute?” she said while moving toward Julia’s closet. “Bodybuilder type. You’ll like him.”

“I’m really in no shape for—”

“Wear these,” Maria interrupted. “And he’ll love your shape. Trust me!”

Julia looked at the skirt and blouse, gifts from her mischievous sister hoping to help her join life’s party. She had only
ever worn them in front of the mirror. They were tame by Maria’s standards, but Julia had never been comfortable showing so
much skin.

“Come on, Sis!” Maria pushed. “You know what they say. If you’ve got it, flaunt it!”

Julia glanced at the page onto which she’d only typed one paragraph in the past hour. She looked back toward her sister, imagining
herself on the dance floor.

“I thought you had ended it with Fin,” she said, easing her way toward a yes.

“Not yet,” Maria replied. “Jared is staying over with a friend tonight, so he won’t know. Come on. I said you’d love to go.
Don’t make me a liar.”

“You
are
a liar,” Julia huffed while wagging her head and accepting the clothes.

“I’ll get you my black heels!” Maria said excitedly as she ran out of the room.

Twenty-five minutes later Julia heard the doorbell while standing in front of her full-length mirror. A rush of excitement
met apprehension as she turned from side to side, inspecting every angle. The outfit gave her a mysterious sense of power,
as if her femininity were a key that could unlock endless possibilities. She heard Maria greet their guests at the door. The
sound of masculine voices deepened both her qualms and her confidence.

The sensation brought to mind the excitement that had been on Angie’s face while she was purchasing Kevin’s lacy surprise.
She imagined the admiring look in Kevin’s eyes, a man weakened and emboldened by his bride’s alluring form. Had Angie felt
the same sense of power and possibility?

The beauty of Angie’s face quickly faded into the form of another. Julia thought of Monica Garcia, a woman who leveraged feminine
power to unlock a different range of possibilities, probably seducing her way into Senator Franklin’s inner circle and teasing
her way toward prime assignments with RAP Syndicate.

Julia felt conflicted as she viewed her reflection. But it was too late to change.

“There she is,” Maria sang as Julia approached the quartet of admiring male eyes. “Doesn’t she look adorable!”

“Hello, Julia,” Fin began. “I’d like you to meet my roommate, Gil.”

“Gil?” Julia heard herself say. “Fin and Gil?”

“Fin’s idea,” Craig Gilman explained as Fin flashed a big grin. “But you can call me Craig if you prefer.”

“No. Gil is fine,” Julia answered as she slowly turned toward Maria’s wink. “Nice to meet you.”

“Shall we go?” Maria said, handing Julia her coat.

Julia relaxed a bit once the coat cloaked her bare shoulders and thighs, freeing Gil to finally notice her face.

“You look great,” he said too eagerly as they walked out the door.

The evening was a catastrophe. Craig Gilman turned out to be the polar opposite of Jonathan Sowell.

Jonathan read the right books and drank the right wine. Craig spent the evening bragging about his latest virtual game conquest.

Jonathan had declined an offer to come back to Julia’s room. Craig invited Julia to his place before they finished their first
dance.

Jonathan had shown more interest in Maria than in Julia. Craig would have gladly taken either of them, or the girl behind
the bar, or just about any willing female.

“It seems to be going great!” Maria whispered in Julia’s ear as the four stood at the bar awaiting refills. “I told you he
was hot!”

Julia said nothing, too embarrassed by her own stupidity to blame Maria or Fin or even Gil. Of course he anticipated a good
time later that night. Why else would she have worn such an alluring outfit? Why else would she have responded to his touch
while dancing? Why else would she laugh at his idiotic jokes?

“I knew you’d like him.” Maria’s last words before heading back onto the dance floor, where she relished the attention of
Jared’s teacher. Julia remembered the hurt on Jared’s face from the taunting of his friends. She recalled Maria’s decision
to end the relationship out of respect for her son’s feelings. Julia knew that wouldn’t happen anytime soon.

“What do you say we get outta here?” Gil’s breath reeked of alcohol as he placed his hand on her backside.

“That’s a good idea.” She shifted her body away from his paw. “I need to get an early start in the morning. I better get home.”

A stunned look came over Gil’s face as the rejection sunk in.

“Home?” he blurted indignantly.

“Thank you for a fun evening,” she added quickly. “But I better call it a night.”

Neither Gil nor Maria spoke the entire drive home. Fin tried easing the tension with an occasional inane question, but they
didn’t respond. Both were irked by the abrupt end to their party. Julia walked alone to her front door as the trio drove away
toward Fin’s place, where he and Maria could finish what they had started on the dance floor and where, she assumed, Gil would
take a cold shower.

Closing the door behind her, Julia inhaled a deep breath of peaceful silence, a tonic for the noisy pretending she had endured
the past few hours. She had learned that she, like her sister, could dominate the sandbox of Guyland, where women easily controlled
the masculine sex. Wearing the right clothing was all that was necessary to obtain no-strings-attached delights. But she wanted
more than a panting boy looking for a female in heat. She sensed her femininity held purpose beyond an erotic thrill with
an overgrown adolescent gamer.

Changing into her favorite baggy T-shirt, Julia grabbed her tablet and slipped into bed. Having spent the entire day ignoring
messages, she now wanted to clear the docket in order to start fresh in the morning. She deleted three automatic news alerts
before opening message number four.

Julia felt a smile form on her lips.

Julia kept
herself under the blanket like a girl holding her head under water. It didn’t work. She remained wide awake despite nearly
thirty minutes trying to force herself into a deep sleep. She vacillated back and forth between opposing sensations, her body
echoing the rhythmic teasing with Gil on the dance floor while her heart recalled the admiring eyes of Troy Simmons during
their Botanic Garden stroll. Against her wishes Julia’s subconscious seemed to fuse the two very different experiences into
a single romantic fantasy. It craved the thrill of uninhibited sexual fulfillment. But it also dreamed of pure, even noble
love.

She pulled back the covers to resurface and to catch her breath. That’s when she heard the familiar ping of a newly arriving
message.

“Buy me a little more time?” she barked at the tablet, abandoning her plan for an early-morning start. It would instead be
a very late night.

Julia reached for her phone and pressed Paul’s image.

“You’re awake. Great!” His tone didn’t match the words. He sounded jumpy, like a man with two left feet forced to perform
a tap dance.

“What time is it?” she asked.

“Don’t know. Midnight-ish?”

“Why do I get the feeling you’re in panic mode?” she asked.

A short pause.

“Paul?”

“I’m still here. Just thinking.”

“Thinking about what?” She braced herself.

“About how much to say.”

“How much to say about what?” She swallowed back the irritation and anxiety surfacing in her voice.

Another pause.

“OK. I’m going to trust you with something, Jewel.”

“I’m honored!” she said with biting sarcasm.

“Behave yourself and listen.”

“Sorry. Go ahead.”

“Complete confidentiality,” he insisted.

“I understand.”

“RAP has been sold.”

“What? Why?” she asked.

“Who knows? Too much debt. Fewer subscribers. A drop in ad buys. Probably all three.”

“What does that mean for us?”
For me
?

“Hard to say. I’ll probably be replaced.”

“Why?”

“New owner means new editorial direction.” He sounded embarrassed. “I’m the old direction.”

“Conservative buyers?”

“Not at all. Way left of me.”

“There is nothing to the left of Paul Daugherty.”

They shared a nervous laugh.

“Apparently times are changing.”

Julia let a few seconds pass to avoid appearing eager to know her own fate.

“You have always been a great writer, Jewel.”

Here it comes
, she thought.

“Heck. I owe much of my success to your work in the early days.”

It was the first time she had ever heard Paul acknowledge Julia’s part in his rise up the RAP ladder.

“But memories are short in this industry.”

He stopped, as if enough had been said.

“And?” she fished.

No bites.

“Paul? There’s more, isn’t there?”

“That’s all I can say, Jewel,” he mumbled.

“Please, Paul. Just say it.”

“I think this would be a good time for your byline to appear on a big feature. That’s why I’ve been pushing so hard on the
bright spots thing. Like I said, memories are short.”

Her stomach tensed as she heard what he had avoided saying.

“It’s my column, isn’t it?” she asked.

“I didn’t say anything about your column,” Paul replied.

“I’m losing it?”

Another silence.

“When?”

“I don’t know.”

“When?” Louder this time.

“I could get into real trouble if—”

“And I could be losing my job, Paul! Please, just tell me what they said.”

He cursed. “OK. But you didn’t hear any of this from me.”

She spent the next few minutes trying to believe her ears. In a few weeks the new owners of RAP Syndicate would be canceling
her contract for the weekly column. Apparently “respectable” numbers weren’t good enough. They wanted to make room for a new,
rising star of the political left.

“Who?” she asked.

Paul didn’t know.

“Monica?” she assumed.

“Not a chance.”

To his credit, Paul seemed uncharacteristically eager to use what little leverage he had left to put Julia in the best possible
light with the new owners. They wouldn’t care about her Pulitzer Prize–winning feature of days gone by. But they would have
a hard time ignoring an unflattering scoop on Franklin’s austerity measures in advance of his expected announcement to run
for president.

“Time’s short, Jewel,” Paul explained. “I need something really good really soon. Any day now I might move from editorial
director to copy editor. I won’t have much say in things when that happens.”

Swallowing hard, Julia thanked Paul for whatever he had done and would do to position her well. Then she ended the call.