Page 11 of Dauntless

CHAPTER FOUR

I pulled on a pair of fresh jeans and a pullover sweater, then called my father before doing the only thing I could to keep my mind occupied: work. To my relief, my father was unaware of anything that had happened to me. I didn’t tell him because I didn’t want to upset him. For most of the conversation, I asked him questions about things he had already shared before. I could detect the joy in his voice as he spoke. I missed the father I’d known. I could identify with Elliott’s story about his father. Mine had also been the strong, assured man that I modeled myself after. He’d been all I had after my mother died. I missed him.

When I hung up, I thought about the next time I would visit him. What would it be like to bring Elliott and Dane along with me? My father, before dementia, would have been disappointed in me mainly because he was conservative, but he loved me. He’d have come around. I shook my head to try to shake out some of my silly chimeras. Elliott was right. I had been dreaming up a fantasy world wherein all three of us could stay together. We all wanted something different, but what did I want? I didn’t know, nor did I want to spend my first day back from the hospital mulling over it. So, I focused on my work, and in less than two hours my email was clear, and my week filled up with meetings. I didn’t need to go to most of the meetings, but I needed to show Perfetto staff that I was back, and they could count on me as they had before. When I returned to my desk from a coffee run, there was a message flashing on my screen from Astrid.

Astrid: Glad you’re back home. I’m coming over for a late lunch with Thai. Surprise!

Gia: Good. I can hardly wait to see you.

With Astrid coming for lunch, I went to the kitchen to get things ready and turned on the television for some needed background noise. As I hastily flipped through the channels, I caught a glimpse of my face being aired on one of them. I stopped dead in my tracks and tried to relocate the channel. It took a few minutes of changing channels before my face showed again. A news report segment was showing a video montage of me. It started with me smiling, holding up Patrick’s hand on stage at the announcement of his governorship re-election bid, then faded to an image of me on a gurney into the emergency room.

If that wasn’t bad enough, they had a caption along the bottom of the screen:

Fifty Shades of Pitfalls: Why Successful Women Risk All for Outrageous Fantasies.

I scowled. Way to ruin one of my favorite books.

I was relieved to find that most of their discussions were pure speculation, which could easily be dismissed as absurd. Yet I remained on my couch staring at the screen transfixed at the news panel experts dissecting my personal life.

“Success doesn’t mean Ms. Walsh has good self-esteem,” one of them postured. “She doesn’t value herself. It’s the Tinder-Age. Sex is given away as easy as swiping an app. Ms. Walsh, like many, no longer wants to invest time in building relationships.

“Mrs. Walsh leaving her perfectly respectable marriage for debasing sex clubs just shows how far our society has fallen,” another expert offered. “Our society has become so void of real values.” The segment on the other women in the show wasn’t any better. They had stock images of women tied to a St. Andrew’s cross in bondage gear. I recoiled. What bothered me most was being placed as an “other” or outside of society. My choices were not based on time, values, or books. Still, I was sure Patrick wasn’t fairing easy with his re-election campaign with new stories like this out there. He wasn’t going to disappear. At least not until he first picked my wallet.

The doorbell sounded, and I rushed over to answer it. There, I was met by Astrid’s joyous cry: “Gia!” Her platinum blonde pixie hair was bare despite the chilly weather. Her face flawless in a Perfetto branded winter wear. I immediately recognized the black suit she had on underneath her dark-blue wool coat because I had the same one. We were fashion twins, always buying the same thing.

Astrid dropped her handbag and the takeout to hold her arms open wide for a hug, which I returned tightly. I took a deep breath. I was so happy to see her. When we parted, I discovered we weren’t alone. A man stood behind her, waiting. Thor came to mind—a huge muscular blonde in a winter coat, jeans, and hiking winter boots. I had caught up on a lot of movies in the hospital. Instead of a hammer, he had a shovel and salt bag in his large hands.

“Hi. I’m Tove, your security guard, and snow-clearer,” he said in a deep baritone. “Elliott sent me over. He said to remind you he’ll be stopping by later.” He put the shovel down and shook our hands. I grinned at Astrid who mouthed “Oh, my God” when he turned his back, then wolf whistled once the door was closed.

“Damn is he hot!” she said. “If I wasn’t—”

“Madly in love with Tim?” I finished for her, and we laughed and hugged each other again before heading into the kitchen. The talk show was still on when we entered, and I grimaced and turned down the television.

She took off her coat. Her eyes narrowed at the screen. “Screw them. They don’t know you.”

I picked up the plates from the place settings and dipped my head. “I barely know myself these days.”

I had only been able to give Astrid a brief version of all that was going on when I was in the hospital. At the time, I had wanted her to hear everything that happened to me before news like this program came out. She listened and cheered me on as always. Even though it was less than a month since it happened, I didn’t feel the same.

“I know you,” she said. “You’re awesome. So, what if you want to have a little fun after your divorce? You’re an adult, and it’s your own damn business.”

I shrugged and put our food down on the small table. “If what I did affected just me, it would have been okay, but you and Tim. His election….”

Astrid averted her eyes. “I won’t lie, some people have asked Tim, and I questions, like if we were swingers. We’re handling it though. You don’t need to worry about us.”

I tensed. I did need to worry. Astrid wasn’t as familiar with how much their lives are under the microscope in the political world. She didn’t understand just how bad this situation could become. “I’m sorry if it’s making things difficult for you two.”

“You were kidnapped and hurt,” she frowned and put down her glass. I took the seat across from her. “Like I told Tim, we don’t turn our backs on our friends. If I’d known about what happened to you, I’d have come to help you.”

I swallowed hard. I hated to think my choices were coming between the two of them. “I’m still sorry that it’s affecting you.”

She lifted a shoulder. “A few canceled speakers at events and a couple of donors backing out isn’t enough to throw in the towel.”

I put my fork down. My appetite was gone. In politics, a budding politician, like Tim, needed a lot of support and financial backing to run for office. “Let me know what you’ve lost, I’ll make up the difference, cover whatever pledge was promised—”

“No,” she answered quickly. “I think it’ll be better if you stay out of his campaign. I mean you already did so much before with the donor contact lists and getting us connections for ads. You have enough to think about with the criminal case and Perfetto.”

A lump lodged in my throat. Her tone was light, but her words hit me hard. Even though I was hurt, I’d lost some of my social standings. My involvement in Tim’s campaign now would cost his election.

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