We’re going over some of the preliminary details, getting the rhetoric of the story down exactly as I want it to go out, when Dorothy buzzes in with a call from Sebastian. “I have to take this,” I tell Stu.
“I’ve got a couple calls to make anyway. Fifteen minutes enough time?” he asks as he heads for the door.
“It should be.”
I wait for him to close the door behind him before I pick up the phone. “What’s up, Sebastian?” It’s not the friendliest of greetings, and the fact that he doesn’t call me on it means he’s as preoccupied as I am. Definitely not a good sign.
“I got a call from Aria’s father a few minutes ago. It seems Brandon’s been sniffing around, trying to get other mafia support now that Valducci has cut him off.”
“Aria’s father? What does he have to do with—” No one can accuse me of not being quick on the uptake. “He still has ties to Valducci after—”
Sebastian pauses for long seconds, then reluctantly admits, “Yeah. He and Valducci are still close, even after what Valducci’s bastard of a kid did to her. That whole thing was pretty much supposed to be an arranged marriage anyway. To cement the familes’ relationship.” His voice seethes with a rage I’d have to be deaf to miss.
Jesus. What is it with rich men treating their daughters like chattel? I thought we’d left that shit behind in the Middle fucking Ages. “I’m assuming things aren’t good between Aria and her father, so why’s he letting you know that?”
“I think he’s trying to mend fences, as much as they can be mended. Plus, I don’t think he or Valducci know what to do in the situation. Valducci already cut Brandon off but your brother’s not going away. He’s making a lot of noise, really pushing for them to keep up their connections with him. Says he’s got a story that’s about to go live that will earn him the sympathy of the American public and make him skyrocket in the polls.”
My blood runs cold and I decide it doesn’t matter if Stu wants to wait until Monday morning’s news cycle. We’re moving on the story tomorrow afternoon.
“What’s Valducci say? Is he planning on breaking our agreement?”
“I don’t know.” Sebastian’s voice is hard and deadly. “We’re not exactly on speaking terms. But I get the impression he plans on honoring the deal you guys made. But—”
“But there are other guys who would have no problem with sliding a soon-to-be-congressman straight into their pockets.”
“Exactly.” Sebastian pauses. “What do you want me to tell him, man?”
“Tell him…” My mind whirls through a bunch of different courses of action, and none of them—save beating the hell out of my useless brother—provide much satisfaction. In the end, though, I can’t control everything. It’s a hard pill to swallow, but a necessary one. “Tell him if they consider it advantageous to get back into bed with Brandon, then I’m not going to try to stop them at this point. His whole campaign is going to implode in twenty-four hours anyway—there’s not much damage mob money can do in that amount of time.”
Sebastian’s quiet for a moment, absorbing what I said—and what I didn’t say. “You’re going to leak what he did to Chloe?”
“I’m not going to leak it. I’m going to come right out and say it. We’re going to give the story to a couple hand-chosen news outlets tomorrow morning and let them run with it.”
Again, Sebastian doesn’t speak for long seconds.
“What do you want to say?” I finally ask, when the silence has stretched on too long.
“Nothing. I mean, it’s really brave that Chloe’s willing to step forward and do that. But is it worth hurting her like that, opening her up to the shitstorm that will come her way, just to bring your brother down?”
“This from the man determined to destroy Nico Valducci at any cost?”
“Not at any cost. That’s what I’m trying to tell you, man. I want that scum and his son in a cage so bad I can taste it, but I’m not willing to hang Aria out to dry to do it.”
“And you think that’s what I’m doing to Chloe? Hanging her out to dry?”
“I’m not saying that. I’m just saying the evidence we have connecting Brandon to Valducci is pretty overwhelming. And if he ends up getting in bed with Aria’s father or one of the other guys around here…that’s just more evidence to land him in jail. And no, none of that will have him paying for his most serious crimes. None of it will have him paying for what he did to your woman. But at the same time, keeping quiet about what he did to her will keep her name out of the national media. It won’t make what he did to her better, but maybe it will at least let her keep some semblance of peace.”
His words hit me like bullets. Not because they’re new to me, but because they aren’t. Everything he’s saying is something I’ve already thought. A conclusion I’ve already reached. And the fact that I don’t have a choice, that my own mother is forcing me to put my wife in the middle of a three-ring media circus that has the potential to devastate her—makes me absolutely crazy. It makes me want to wrap my hands around Brandon’s throat and keep squeezing until the motherfucker isn’t a threat to anyone else ever again.
I don’t say any of that, though. Instead, I tell him about my mother’s threat to leak the story and how I’m trying to get out in front of her, trying to control the rhetoric and how the story gets told.
Sebastian curses, low and long as I lay out my rationale, and when I’m done, he says, “Fuck, man. You’re between a rock and a hard place.”
“More like a rock and the hardest place.”
“Yeah. That’s pretty much what I meant.”
“I know.” I think back to Brandon, to the original reason for my best friend’s phone call. “Tell Aria’s dad that, at this point, it doesn’t matter to me if they want to get back in bed with Brandon. Their money isn’t going to save his career—nothing is. I’m planning on making sure of that.”