It was the whole, entire truth, and it was all she had to go on. Kana had been there too, they said. Kana had explained that Michelle had referred Jack to her that very first day. More evidence, but she feared it would never be enough.
When she left, she checked her voicemail, and found more cancellations. She was hemorrhaging faster than a slashed artery. Sometimes the truth wasn’t enough to change the reality.
* * *
Jack knocked on the green door. A graying man who looked like a professor invited him in. He was with a woman who had her hair pulled into a tight bun, and another man, who looked to be middle-aged. They were in charge of Michelle’s professional fate. They held the power to take her license away.
The graying man went first. “Take a seat.”
Jack sat on a hard brown chair. “I know you didn’t call me, but I needed to be here.”
“We are glad you found us. We treat all these situations seriously. Let’s start at the beginning.”
“She refused to treat me. It’s that simple. Everything else is a lie. Everything is spin. It’s the press trying to make it look a certain way.”
Later, he joined his sister in midtown, who introduced him to her friend at The New York Press. Her name was Caroline, and he sat down with her at the corner table of a quiet cafe. Caroline wore her red hair in a tight braid down her back, and had a pink knit scarf around her neck. She shook his hand. “I’m going to take notes the whole time,” Caroline said, diving right into the matter as she began typing on her laptop. “Let’s start with the news of the hour, of course.”
“The one about me being a guy who happens to be dating a shrink?” he said, doing his best to keep it light.
She laughed. “Yes, that one.”
“Here’s the story . . .”
He’d expected her question, and he’d answered honestly, as he’d done before the ethics board. He didn’t know if this would be enough to save Michelle. But the problems had all started with perception. The media’s perception of him. The public’s perception of sexuality. Nick’s perception of fair targets. If this had all started with warped perceptions, even the ones about him, he could at least set those straight.
After addressing the first question, Caroline dived into a bigger one. “I hope you don’t mind me asking, why did you see a psychologist in the first place. Was it because of Aubrey?”
Ah.
The root of his problem. Of his struggles. Of what had sent him down the path and into Michelle’s arms in the first place. The last thing he wanted to do was blame a dead woman. The truth of their split was something the deceased didn’t need heaped on her.
But he could come clean about his own emotional state.
“You know, it was. But probably not for the reasons everyone thinks. I cared about Aubrey deeply, and I mourned the loss of her as anyone would. But by the time I went to see a therapist, I had a different issue to deal with surrounding her death. We had an argument that same day, a few minutes before her run, and she died shortly after. I’m going to live with that guilt. And I have been living with it for the last year, and I was ready to let it go. That’s why I went to a shrink. To start to move past the regret I felt over the things that were said in those final moments. I was able to do that with another therapist, and also with the support of friends, family and people I love.”
He wouldn’t vilify a dead woman, but he didn’t want to be known as the grieving widower anymore. “And that includes the woman I’m in love with. And yes, she happens to be a shrink, and I’m pleased to say she’s not my shrink.”
Caroline continued typing, then looked up at Jack, pausing over the keys. “I also understand from Casey that you have some new plans in the works related to the political campaign you’ve been supporting.”
Jack nodded. “Yes, we do,” he said because he hadn’t asked Denkler to withdraw. That was never in the cards. Denkler was trying to do good for the city, and he’d been forced into a corner. Jack wasn’t going to continue to let Michelle, nor his business, his sister, his friends like Henry and Marquita, nor his life be dictated by a bully. Nick “Clark Davidson” Bradshaw might be able to spin a tale to the tabloids and start a viral trend, but that didn’t mean everyone would respond to his tactics. “But we’d really rather show you. Do you have a minute to go to Eden?”
Caroline shot him a curious look as she closed her laptop. “I love Eden,” she said in a whisper.
“So do a lot of people,” Casey said, then dropped her voice too. “Have you tried The Wild One? It’s divine.”
“God, I know. It’s amazing,” Caroline said.
Minutes later, they’d reached the store on the Upper East Side. Even from across the street, anyone could tell it was packed. Casey had unleashed the marketing promotional plans on social media that morning, earlier than planned, since they’d switched to Plan B. But the change-the-conversation tactic needed to be moved up. Jack wanted to take all the attention off Michelle and off the BDSM clubs too. He’d gotten into this business in the first place because he believed in pleasure, and all the different routes to it. He believed playing dirty was best reserved for a true war, and for true lovers in the bedroom.
Caroline peered at the large sign in hot pink print on the front of the store.
“All proceeds from any Joy Delivered products bought at Eden in store and online for the rest of the year will be donated to breast cancer research. May your days and nights be filled with pleasure beyond your wildest fantasies.”
Caroline’s jaw dropped. “Holy shit. That could be a lot of money.”
Casey jumped in. “So far today, in the first few hours of the promotion being announced, we’ve raised several thousand dollars. We planned to wait until the charity gala this week to make the announcement, but now seemed a better time.”
Especially when the news of the donation spread throughout the district, to the same people who had once supported Conroy’s campaign. Over the next few days, the conversation changed. There was very little talk amongst the residents of shutting down the clubs. In fact, business had never been better at Eden. Jack was pleased that they’d been able to extract themselves from a dirty, muddy race with something positive. That they’d been able to move away from the mudslinging and serve the community in a much more meaningful way.
Just as Jack had suspected, there were more people using battery-operated-friends than not, and they’d simply needed to reach those people with a positive message.