to drum up public support? He’d just have to try, given that the alternative was none of his bills reaching the senate floor at all. Tim wondered how many of his predecessors, heck, how many members of the current Senate, received similar suggestions from Granger in exchange for financial support.
Well, dammit, he wasn’t going to be one of them. Enough Virginian’s knew who Tim was now that he could fundraise from other wealthy folks, perhaps even a grassroots funding campaign, if he needed money. The next election was a long way off – the last thing he wanted to do was stall all his plans until that time, or even indefinitely. He also had the uneasy feeling that his next meeting with Granger would be less about stalling what Tim wanted to do, and more about pushing what Granger wanted to achieve. Tim couldn’t crumble at the first hurdle. He had to stand tall and send the message that he wasn’t going to be intimidated. He might spend his entire political career in the pockets of lobbyists and donors if he didn’t make clear now he was incorruptible.
Screw Granger and his agenda. Tim didn’t need his money.
As he headed towards his car, Tim felt an aching in his gut. This kind of bullshit wasn’t the reason for his getting into politics. He wasn’t naïve enough to be surprised by it, but he hoped to have a few years doing what he loved before the inevitable outside corruption started to seep in. Such a pessimistic view, he mused.
These thoughts made him more determined to resist as long as he still had fight in him. And he would start by ignoring Granger’s suggestions and doing what he damn well intended to do in the first place.
It had been an exhausting day. Scratch that, Melissa thought, the worst day of her life.
Melissa kicked off her shoes and rubbed her aching feet. She was bone tired and her bruises throbbed. She popped the lid from a bottle of painkillers she’d bought from the little store in the lobby, and swallowed two pills with a bottle of water.
There was no pill she could take to ease the deep loneliness gnawing at her. At least, no pill she could buy legally without a prescription. Going to bed without Howie lying next to her was nothing new because they lived in different countries and spent far too much time apart. It was easy to convince herself, for a short time, that he was just somewhere else tonight, that he was thinking about her and sending her sexy text messages. She picked up her phone to divert her attention from the cavernous hole in her heart. She saw dozens of texts and voicemails, thousands of Instagram messages and more tweets than any sane person could ever read. She resisted the urge to turn off her phone and try to sleep. She doubted she’d get much rest anyway, and people she cared about were worried about her.
So she worked her way through her texts, given that they came from people who knew her best. She answered the one from Shania, her best friend and technical guru who ran her channel, wrote her apps and managed all her accounts. Shania was a genius and a friend for the ages. Melissa’s mom had texted her too, so Melissa replied that she was safe, feeling sad but okay, and would be home tomorrow. She didn’t mention her bruises. What could her mom do about those? She had enough to worry about.
The reply came back almost immediately. Why had she not responded sooner? Her mom was sick, perhaps terminally so, and it ate at Melissa that she might be the cause of extra stress. Melissa briefly explained that she’d been at the police station since the incident and couldn’t reply until now.
Shania was the next to message her.
Saw the video. Are you hurt?
Oh God, the video. Melissa stared at the words. In all of this, she had completely forgotten the broadcast from Howie’s phone. She should find it and watch it, to remind herself of what happened.
Did she really want to be reminded? The images already burned in her mind. She would have to watch it eventually, but not tonight.
She replied to Shania, sent another five texts in response to her mother’s frantic messaging, then turned her attention to her followers.
Melissa Jones’s channel had millions of subscribers, many of whom were avid viewers. She talked about fashion, celebrities, life and her own experiences with her mother’s many illnesses. A couple of her posts went viral, her subscriber numbers shot up, and it snowballed from there. She had no idea why her channel was so popular, but she did her best to post regular updates and respond to her fans. Of course there were haters too, but Melissa had a thick skin and didn’t let them get to her. That’s why she was able to screen out the vile comments without absorbing what they said.
Howie Do deserved what he got…
Donate to Officer Hagley’s defense fund…
Hagley did us all a favor today…
Maybe Jones will shut the fuck up now…
Melissa let them all slide past her like she always did with the inevitable hatred surfacing in the wake of everything she posted. Usually her real fans drowned out the shit. Not today.
Thick skin sister, she told herself.
But the trauma of today was unlike anything she’d experienced before. She knew she would have to post something about it. In the past she’d taken on causes, but they were for other people’s benefit. She was far too close to this to handle it at the moment. She wasn’t about to launch a fight for justice or anything like that. She wasn’t strong enough yet. She wanted time to grieve, and then she would talk to her followers.
One last text went to her agent, thanking her for arranging the hotel and flight, and promising to be in touch soon. Jasmine was a dynamo, a true angel on Earth who had taken Melissa under her wing and fought tooth-and-nail to get her and Howie an astonishing deal with a major US network. It had all been so exciting, until this morning when it all came crashing down.
She missed Howie so much. The thought of him caused physical pain in her chest. She curled up exhausted and wanting to sleep but with her eyes remaining stubbornly wide open. She had boyfriends before, but none of them were like Howie. He understood her on an emotional level, on a sexual level, and on an intellectual level. He was so smart. Nobody realized how smart he was. Most of her boyfriends had been man-child idiots attracted by her body and her rising fame. Howie loved her body, oh God his passion for her left her breathless, but he loved her mind too.
What would she do without him? How could she carry on alone? Now that she knew what was possible when you truly make a connection with someone special, how could she live without it?
A new text popped up on her phone from a number she didn’t recognize.
Hey Melissa. This is Howie’s brother, Wilson. You holding up?
She wanted to put the phone down, to just shut it all out. But that wasn’t fair to Wilson. She’d never met Howie’s brother; she was supposed to meet him and his folks today. He would understand if she didn’t reply right away. It was nice of him to check on her though.
Doing OK. Thanks for texting. Tired. Can we talk tomorrow?
His response came back quickly.
Sure. Get some rest. TTYL.
And with that, her battery died
