Ciara said exasperatedly. “No one else got interviews either. The grandparents arrived and spirited the children away before the press could ask any questions.”
Shannon nodded. “What’s your angle then?” Shannon sat beside Ciara’s desk.
“How abuse can happen in a small neighborhood and no one knows anything about it. Thought maybe I could explore further and do a piece about women’s shelters.”
Shannon smiled. “Sounds preachy, Miller.” She stood and folded her arms across her chest. “As reporters, we’re supposed to report the news, not make broad assumptions.”
“I know that, Shannon, I just thought we could make this story more human and not focus solely on the victims.”
“You’re too soft, Miller,” Shannon lectured. “You’ve got to toughen up or you won’t last long in this business.”
Shannon swiftly walked away, leaving Ciara feeling completely defeated. Why did she insist on riding her so hard? From day one she’d taken an instant disliking to Ciara and she couldn’t figure out why.
Ciara took a deep breath and calmed herself. It would not be to her advantage to get on Shannon’s bad side. Without her approval, a reporter’s packages might never see the light of day. Somehow she had to convince Shannon that she was a valuable part of the WTCF family. She had to believe that one day soon Shannon would realize what a gem she had.
After Shannon had left, Ciara walked down the hall to the studio control complex, hoping to review Lance’s footage for the day, when she received a call on her cell.
Opening her flip phone, Ciara answered, “Hello?”
“Baby girl, is that you?” Diamond Miller asked from the other end.
Ciara rolled her eyes heavenward. “Who else would be answering my phone?” she replied sharply.
“No need to get snippy, Ciara,” Diamond replied.
“Sorry,” Ciara apologized halfheartedly. “What can I do for you, Diamond?” She called her mother by her first name because Diamond refused to be thought of as the mother of a twenty-eight-year-old daughter.
“Well, uh…” Diamond paused as she flipped open her baguette purse and pulled out a box of slim cigarettes. “I was hoping you might be able to spare a little cash.” She smiled at the bartender as he pushed a free cocktail in front of her. Diamond gave him her best head toss and wink. He beamed. Works every time, she thought. She returned her attention to her only daughter. “I’m a little short on cash. C’mon, help your mama out.”
Ciara sighed. “I just lent you money last month, Diamond. Really, this borrowing has got to stop. I’m not made of money, you know.”
“Of course, sweetie.” Diamond laid it on thick. “It’s just that I had a bad night at poker with the girls.”
Ciara doubted that was the real reason. Since she’d been a child, Diamond had been terrible with money. Ciara supposed that it was because even at forty-five her mother still looked like a goddess. Nary a wrinkle could be found on her smooth brown skin, and dancing had kept her fit. But what could Ciara expect from a former Las Vegas showgirl?
“Diamond, I don’t know if I can swing it. I’ll have to check my finances and get back with you.”
“Promise me it’ll be soon.”
“I promise,” Ciara said, closing the phone. What had she ever done to deserve a mother like Diamond?
Jonathan was in the middle of reviewing a case he was consulting on with a colleague when his father walked into his office at City Hall later that afternoon.
“Jonathan,” Charles Butler began. “We need to talk.” He closed the door behind him and came toward Jonathan’s large cherrywood desk.
“I suppose you’ve come to plead Reid’s case,” Jonathan stated, putting the confidential file in his desk drawer.
“Of course,” his father replied. “Reid has been a big part of this family for years. He deserves your respect.”
“He’s been part of your life, Dad,” Jonathan replied. “Not mine.”
“Because of Reid, I never lost an election. I am retiring undefeated.”
“Bully for you,” Jonathan returned, “but that doesn’t change my feelings on the subject. I have never cared for Reid and I most certainly don’t want him running my campaign.”
“I understand,” Charles sighed. “To each his own, but you understand I had to try.”
“And your opinion is duly noted.” Jonathan stood. “But I’m my own man, Dad. And I decide who I want to run my campaign.”
“Fine, but at least throw him a bone.” His father would not let up. “Let Reid be your adviser. You know, make suggestions on the campaign.”
“That’s what I have Zach for,” Jonathan replied.
“I know. But do this for me.”
“All right, Dad,” Jonathan conceded. “Just as long as Reid and you understand that I run the show.” The days of Charles Butler running the show were over.
And to prove it, he met up with his best friend, Zach Powers, for dinner later that evening at the Prime Rib in Center City.
Jonathan had known Zach since boarding school, where they’d been roommates and had played lacrosse together. Even when they’d gone their separate ways in college, they’d still remained friends. Jonathan trusted Zach to have his back.
Jonathan smiled as Zach approached the table. Elegantly dressed in a tailored Gucci suit and Italian leather loafers, Zach was a major player and he knew it.
“It’s good to see you, Zach,” Jonathan said as his best friend joined him.
“Not that I’m not happy to see you, but why are we here? Why all the secrecy?” Zach asked, taking a seat opposite Jonathan.
“C’mon. You know the press as well as I do. If they smelled a story, it would be front-page news,” Jonathan replied. He paused when the waiter came over and filled the water glasses.
“I wanted to ask you in person to be my campaign manager.”
“Pardon?”
“You heard correctly. I want the best and brightest on my team. And that’s you.”
Jonathan had seen what Zach had done for Governor Green and Mayor Floyd. Both had been new to the political arena and had been facing tough competition from the incumbents, but Zach had adeptly convinced the public to vote for them. Zach was a skilled campaign manager and Jonathan intended to capitalize on his success, and it just so happened that he was finally available.
“You don’t have to lay it on so thick, Johnny boy. I’m your friend, so you know I’ll be there to support you. Whatever you need, I’m your man.”
“Thank
