The Cost of Commitment

by Lynn Ames

Copyright © 2004

 

Breathwaite paced the length of his office, turned around, and stalked the other way.  “It’s not working; I need something more.  The stubborn bitch isn’t budging.”

The blockish man sitting in the corner continued to clean his teeth with a toothpick.  “What do you want me to do, boss?”

“I want you to find me something—anything—that I can use to get Kyle out of that seat.  Damn it all to hell, Kirk.  If I don’t make this happen, and soon, I’m out of the game.”

“Maybe you haven’t been looking in the right places.”

Breathwaite narrowed his eyes.  “What do you mean?”

Kirk looked supremely bored.  “You’ve been trying to discredit her professionally, right?  Shake her credibility?”

“Of course.  If I can plant that seed of doubt—make her seem less trustworthy—I’ll have her.”

Kirk examined his nails.  “Seems to me that hasn’t been working too well for you so far.”

Breathwaite rounded on him.  “You got any other ideas?”

“Hey,” Kirk held up his hands, “I’m just a stupid PI, remember?”

“Don’t play games with me, you lazy son-of-a-bitch.  I pay you good money to dig up dirt, and so far, frankly, you haven’t proved to me that you’re worth a dime.”

Kirk snarled.  “I was smart enough to uncover your con, little man, so you’d best watch your manners.”

Breathwaite clamped his jaw shut with a resounding click.  After collecting himself he said, “It’s obvious to me that you’ve been giving this matter some thought.  Care to share your ideas?”

Kirk smirked.  “That’s better.”  He went back to manicuring his nails.  “As a matter of fact, I have been giving this considerable thought.  What’s the chink in this dyke’s armor?  What’s her Achilles heel?”

He let Breathwaite think for a moment.

“You’ve been going on the assumption that it’s her pride, her professionalism.  But that doesn’t seem to be it, right boss?”

“Right.”

“So what else is there, I asked myself?”

“Her girlfriend.”

“Bingo.”

“You know something.”  It was a statement, not a question.

Kirk smiled beatifically.  “Could be.”

“Spill it.”

“Ah ah ah.  Patience, little man.  It’s going to cost you.”

The grinding of Breathwaite’s teeth was audible in the silence.

Kirk chuckled.  “You must be a dentist’s dream.  Relax, all I want—in addition to my money, of course…”

“Naturally,” Breathwaite muttered.

“ALL I want,” Kirk raised his voice slightly, “is a cut of the action when you get to D.C.”

“What, exactly, do you have in mind?”

“I want a position as chief of security for the big man.”

“Can’t be done,” Breathwaite dismissed him out of hand.  “Chief of security has to be secret service.  You might remember that there are a few black marks on in your portfolio.  You’d never get through the screening process.”

“Okay then, expunge my record.”

Breathwaite considered.  “Done.”

“Right then.”  Kirk reached into the briefcase that had been sitting at his feet.  He walked across the room, unceremoniously tossing a manila file folder on the desk.

Breathwaite scooped it up greedily and leafed through the contents.  He stared hard at a glossy picture in the middle of the pile, before returning to the top page.  He began to read aloud.  “Jamison Parker, age twenty four, reporter for Time magazine.”  He glanced at the next series of pages—a Time magazine story from the previous May, making special note of the date at the top.  Smiling evilly, he shut the folder with a snap.

*********

“Kyle.”  Kate rolled over and answered the phone automatically, scowling at the bedside clock: 3:45 a.m.

“Good morning, Ms. Kyle.  David Breathwaite here.”

“How can I help you, David?”

“I’d like to meet with you at your earliest convenience.”

“I’d rather eat rats for breakfast,” Kate thought.  What she said was, “Regarding?”

“I’d rather talk about it in person, Ms. Kyle.  Let’s just say it would be in your best interest to make it sooner, rather than later.  Perhaps I could buy you a cup of coffee before work this morning, for instance?”

Kate weighed her options.  She could refuse the invitation, but there was no real advantage to doing so.  She did, however, want to force Breathwaite to meet her on her own turf.  “My office in one hour.  I’ll supply the coffee.”

It was clear from the momentary silence on the other end of the phone that Breathwaite didn’t like being dictated to, but he agreed on the terms of the meeting and rang off.

Jay rolled over sleepily and propped her chin on her lover’s naked shoulder.  “Who was that, sweetheart?  You look like you swallowed a lemon.”

“That, my love, was our good friend Mr. Breathwaite.  Seems he wants to meet with me ASAP.”

Jay’s growl reverberated in the quiet of their bedroom, causing Fred to look up from his customary position next to Kate’s side of the bed. “I strongly dislike that man.”

Laughing, Kate hugged Jay.  “Really?  I couldn’t tell.”

“I take it you’re going?”

“No, actually, he’s coming.  I wanted him on my home court.”

“Oh.  Good thinking, sweetheart.  Put him at a disadvantage.”

“As much as that’s possible without knowing most of what’s going on.”

“Looks like you may be about to find out.”

Kate looked pensive.  “Maybe, but somehow I don’t think he’s likely to be very forthcoming.”