Page 16 of Bi-Partisan

Ben opens his mouth, but then Riley appears in the doorway leading to the kitchen. “Coffee’s read—Mr. Montgomery.” She stops short and her face softens. “How are you doing?”

“I’m fine,” I say, shoving my hands into my sweatshirt pocket so they can’t see how bad my hands are shaking. But I don’t think I’m convincing based on the sympathy on everyones’ faces. I can’t stand it. It’s only making it that much harder for me to not completely fall apart.

The only person who doesn’t look like they’re about to coddle me is Ben, who does, in fact, look grouchier than normal, like Julie warned. So I focus my attention on him and try to get into business mode. Because while I like to think that the people on my staff are also my friends, at the end of the day, I’m their boss, and I don’t want any of them to think I’m incapable of doing my job.

“How bad is this?”

“Well, I’m going to be honest. It’s—Oh, for fuc—my phone has not stopped ringing for the last hour. Riley, can you fill him in?” With a grumble, Ben accepts the call and turns to head toward the kitchen. “Ben Gibson.”

Once he's gone, I turn my attention to Riley. “How bad?”

“Do you want to sit and have some coffee?” she asks instead of answering the question. “Or have you eaten anything? There are donuts in the kitchen.”

I shake my head. There’s no way I could stomach eating anything right now, not when it feels like I’d only throw it back up again. But I do sink into the nearest available wooden chair at the table. “I want to get to work. The faster we figure out how to control this narrative, the better,” I say, channeling my best false confidence. Except I don’t even know if this is a narrative that can be controlled. Mina wouldn’t let me look at the District Buzz article while we were in the car. I have no idea what’s being said or by whom. I haven’t even seen the pictures.

Riley looks at me for a few moments, then nods. “We’re still getting information in pieces since it’s only been about an hour since the District Buzz article went live.”

“Do you have it? The article.”

“You don’t want to read it, sir,” Daniel says, his face going stony again. “It’s tabloid-level garbage.”

He’s probably right, but unfortunately I think I need to. Whatever is in the article can’t be worse than what my imagination is supplying. “I need to see the photos.”

“I printed those out separate from the article,” Riley says, rifling through the papers strewn across the table. “I figured you’d want to see them. But Daniel is right. You don’t need to read the words that go with them, at least not right now.”

With slightly trembling hands, I take the photos from her outstretched hand.

They’re dark despite the clear editing the reporter did on the photos before posting them with their article. But there’s no mistaking that it’s me in the photos. Me sitting in the booth with Adrian. Me dragging Adrian onto the dance floor. Me plastered against Adrian’s front. Us making out on the dance floor. Leaving the club. Making out again outside the club. Fuck, I knew that wasn’t a smart idea at the time too.

I can’t really beat myself up too much about the photos inside the club. I was lulled into a false sense of security by the no photography policy that some person violated by sneaking these photos then selling them to a reporter. But outside? That’s all me. I wasn’t even wearing my hat. I wasn’t thinking. For one brief moment, I’d followed Mina’s advice to get out of my head a little too well, and now I’m paying for it.

The only bright side to these photos is that Adrian’s face is at least partially obscured in every single one. Hopefully that means the media isn’t able to find him. I’d hate for him to get dragged into this.

“Who’s the reporter?” I ask as I hand the stack of photos back to Riley.

“I’ve got more information on that,” Mina says without looking up from her phone. “Nora—my friend at District Buzz—gave me the details on him. He works on the entertainment beat right now, but apparently he has his sights set on being a political reporter and thought this might help get him there. She couldn’t say how the guy got the photos because it could get her fired, though. She already put herself on a bit of a ledge tipping me off the way she did, seeing as she just started working there.”

“Why did she tip you off?” Daniel asks.

She frowns and looks up. “She despises these kind of blatant violations of privacy—thinks it’s bad journalism. She said she couldn’t do anything to convince her coworker not to out Jamie, but she could at least make sure Jamie got a heads up.”

It was barely a heads up, but I’m glad for it regardless. As bad as this is, it would have been worse to find out via a notification on my phone. “Thank her for me.” My voice cracks a little, so I clear my throat before continuing. “Who else has the story?”

“So far, the only article is the one from District Buzz. But several news outlets have re-tweeted it, and I’ve fielded calls from people at The Hill, Politico, The Cary Chronicle, and The Raleigh Tribune,” Daniel says. Then his computer dings, and he winces as he looks at the notification. “I’ve got more bad news. Mitchell just tweeted.”

“Let me see,” Mina says. She leans over the computer, then scoffs. “Pompous asshat.”

“What did he say?” I ask.

“Exactly what you’d expect. ‘Coming out of church this morning with my family, I’m disheartened to see a government official acting in such a debaucherous way. It’s clear our current representative prioritizes flagrantly flaunting his lifestyle over upholding the values of his constituents’,” Mina reads.

And that’s what finally makes me snap.

“I wasn’t flaunting anything,” I exclaim. “He’s acting as if I’m the one who posted the photos, like I wanted my private life to be splashed across the internet for everyone to see and comment on.” I shove away from the table and begin to pace.

Before anyone can say anything, Ben re-enters the room with a huff. “Well, that was the campaign office. Another donor pulled their support.” He drops his phone on the table and brings his fingers up to massage his temples.

Another?

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