Tormented

“Because we’re not on a date. We’re just doing dinner in between sex.”

That’s how he saw it as well. Only he rarely bothered taking women to dinner. It was too much of a dog-and-pony show when both parties knew the end goal was sex. But for some reason, he wanted to take Kimani to dinner. Even though he was seriously considering giving her back to Jake. She wasn’t good for him, and he didn’t like her poking around his family affairs. He didn’t care if he ended up in the paper in connection with the Scarlet Auction. Jason probably wouldn’t care either, but Jason’s dad would be livid. He would scold Jason for bringing shame upon the family honor, and Jason didn’t need more pressure.

He could try to pay her off, ut he doubted money would motivate her. The way she talked, journalism was about serving a greater good. He would have to figure out another way to do a “catch and kill.”

“Sex and extortion,” she amended.

“Why didn’t you just tell me that what you know was confidential?”

“Would that have stopped you earlier?”

He hesitated. “Maybe. Because Uncle Gordon is running for mayor, this development is the most important project for us. The numbers have to work—we’re not the only ones financing this—but it’s got to be good for Uncle Gordon, too.”

“And the City of Oakland.”

“Of course.”

“Well, not all developers, maybe not even a majority, care about the community. They’re in it to make a buck and then they’re on to the next project.”

“That’s not how we work.”

“There’s a reason developers don’t have a good rep.”

“I won’t say there aren’t a lot of bad eggs: developers that skimp on building materials and aesthetics, developers that try to squeeze every last concession out of the city, developers that play dirty and purchase politicians. But don’t paint us as all bad. That would be stereotyping.”

“How many good developers versus bad developers can you name?”

“How many Smart Cars did we drive by?”

“What does that have to do with developers?”

“Humor me.”

“None, I think.”

“Now, when we get to the restaurant, tell me how many Smart Cars we’ve driven by.”

“Okay. Oh, there’s one.”

By the time they got to the restaurant, she had seen three.

“What you look for, you’ll usually find,” he told her as he handed the car keys to the valet. “When the media reports a story about a bad developer, the public is primed to seek corroboration, further proof of what they know.”

“That’s a good thing. Are you suggesting we shouldn’t report the bad stuff?”

Seeing one of the valet’s gaze linger upon her, he wrapped an arm about her waist and pulled her closer. “Not at all. But there’s not enough good stuff reported.”

“Okay, it’s not ideal that fear, greed and the darker side of humanity sells more papers. We’re just giving readers what they want.”

“Then how are you truly empowering them? How can you change the world for the better if they’re only getting part of the picture?”

“It would be better if the media didn’t have to worry about making ends meet. Then they would be more free to report what they believe is more valuable instead of what will sell more papers.”

“And how would you accomplish that?”

“My first thought was that media outlets could be government sponsored, but then it would be at the whim of politics, whoever was in office or in control of Congress and funding.”

She knit her brows in further thought, looking very cute that way.