Truth - Romig Aleatha (читать книги полностью без сокращений бесплатно txt) 📗

Slowly she realized he was teasing her. “Actually, I think you should change.” Her smile radiated emerald shimmers.

“You do?”

“Yes, maybe something like the jeans you wore last night. You know the ones with holes – it highlights my penniless status.”

With his grin in full gear, he reached out and covered Claire’s hand. Never before had this familiarity ignited the tightness she now felt. Claire fought between the desire to turn her hand over and return the contact and the need to pull away and run to her room. Seemingly unaware of her sudden mixture of feelings, Harry said, “If I ever do live with a penniless woman, I can only hope she has a portfolio like yours.”

“Oh, is that your only requirement?” Her brows rose in question.

“No…” his gaze captivated her, holding her prisoner. “It’s probably the least of my requirements. The first is that she doesn’t tell me what to wear.”

Pulling her stare away, she nonchalantly replied, “Hey, you asked. But, I guess that leaves me out. Should I alert the press?”

He winked, “No, let me enjoy my fifteen minutes for a while.”

Claire shook her head, “Okay, our secret living arrangements are safe with me. Oh, and about fifty other people who live in this building and know the truth.”

“They won’t tell.” With that Harry walked toward the front door, toward his true home.

When the door closed, she exhaled and scolded herself. The easy atmosphere of Amber and Harry’s company was a gift. The last thing she wanted to do was complicate it with feelings which surpassed friendly. In an attempt to dismiss the unfamiliar tightness, she refocused on the article.

Claire knew she should share the nonchalant attitude of Amber and Harry. It was only she’d been taught an engrained fear of public failure, appearance, and opinion. Unconsciously, while out – at a store, a cafe, or walking on the street – Claire found herself scanning the crowds for cameras. On some occasions she would think she’d see one from her peripheral vision, and then upon second glance, the perpetrator would disappear. The photographers had to be there. How else could she grace so many magazines? A new laissez faire perspective would take time.

Claire knew her star status would soon extinguish. After all, California was inhabited by many famous people. That meant if her story was to be newsworthy, she needed to strike while the iron was hot. That was her thought process as she reached for her telephone.

Claire’s heart beat rapidly as she considered the repercussions of her intended actions. For once, she wasn’t being impetuous. She’d thoroughly debated this decision, knew her guidelines, her limits, and even wrote them down. Her stipulations were sitting on the counter in front of her as she dialed the phone.

Justifiably shocked and surprised, Meredith Banks willingly dropped everything to speak with her old sorority sister. Sounding businesslike, yet friendly, Claire explained her desire to get her story out with someone she could trust. 

Candidly Claire asked, “Meredith, is that you?”

Without hesitation, Meredith replied, “Claire, I never doubted your innocence; yes, I would be honored to help you with this.”

Claire knew Meredith saw dollar signs and the potential for fame. She needed to know if she could trust her. To that end, she presented Meredith with a litmus test. “Before any interviews or work on my story, I want you to publish a very overdue retraction regarding our 2010 interview. I want you to tell the truth and explain it wasn’t an interview, but an ambush, resulting in an unauthorized article. The retraction must also clarify that during our conversation I never mentioned the name Anthony Rawlings. You made assumptions based solely on conjecture.” Before Meredith could respond, Claire added, “If and when I read your published retraction, the exclusive rights to my story are yours.”

Verbally Meredith agreed. Claire had heard verbal promises before. She informed Meredith everything would be summarized in a written contract. The breach of said agreement, by either side, would result in a hefty financial penalty.

Claire agreed to one concession. Meredith could promise a real interview with Claire Rawlings Nichols in her printed retraction. Without a doubt, that piece of journalism would reach Tony’s publicist Shelly, and in essence – Tony. Eventually they would learn of her interview and impending article anyway. This plan put Claire in control of the timing and gave her visibility. She reasoned visibility gave the world cause, if she suddenly disappeared, making Anthony Rawlings the most likely suspect.

Claire was no longer hiding or being played by Tony; for once, she was in control! The two women agreed to meet for a series of interviews and editorial sessions, after the publication of the retraction. They left the specific details in flux.

Smiling, Claire disconnected the call with a sense of satisfaction. She believed it was the right decision at the right time. The public had too many misconceptions. They needed to know the truth. They needed to know the real Anthony Rawlings before he repeated history with her, or heaven forbid with someone else.

Satisfied with her call, Claire sipped her coffee and noticed the blinking icon on her iPad indicating an email. It was the confirmation of her impending trip. She’d paid for both the airline and hotel reservations with her new Visa. That wasn’t done recklessly. Claire knew her plans were now visible. She even felt a twinge of pride showing her ex-husband her new found independence. Of course, it was all a ruse; instead of flying into Corpus Christi where she’d spend her holiday, Claire was flying to San Antonio, where she’d rent a car, check into a very nice hotel, and then slip away and drive three hours to the coast. The deception was for Courtney. The two friends wanted time together, and their relationship needed to remain clandestine.

Although Claire wasn’t sure, she believed her movements were being monitored. After all, Courtney said Tony hired a private detective. And in the two weeks since Tony’s call, she’d received two lovely floral arrangements. The first came a few days after their short conversation. It contained cherry brandy roses, lilies, dark blue delphinium, hot pink larkspur, silver dollar eucalyptus and no card. Nevertheless, the meaning was clear... Tony knew exactly where she lived. The second arrangement came a week later with a card simply stating: I have business in California soon. Perhaps we could dine?

Although Amber called it a waste of beautiful flowers, Claire threw both arrangements directly into the trash. After her reaction to his call, Claire decided she wasn’t ready to face him or talk to him, in person or on the telephone. She could eliminate his voice by disabling her voicemail. Unfortunately, she still received his text messages. They mostly consisted of polite greetings to which she never replied. She hated to admit; even his typed word affected her. Sometimes she missed the pleasant Tony.

Contradictorily, the voice on the phone that sent chills down her spine and sent her running to the bathroom. That Tony she didn’t miss. Besides, Silicon Valley was beautiful in April with flowers at every turn. They didn’t need flowers indoors too.

Claire spent her favorite part of each day walking outside. True, the Palo Alto streets weren’t like hiking in the Iowa woods. But, it was outside, and as much as she tried, Claire couldn’t shake the memories of her incarceration. Yet, when the breeze blew her hair and the sun warmed her face, the chains of her imprisonment melted away and her wounded spirit began to heal. With each step in any directions she chose, her lungs filled with fresh air, and she felt her strength grow beyond that of pre-prison, to a place – pre-Tony.