Page 13 of Primary Season
WCHS, the FOX affiliate for South Carolina’s Low Country, sat at the end of a nondescript cul-du-sac on the edge of town. The TV station had seen better days, and as an intern named Laura led us from the lobby to the studio, she apologized several times for the stained carpet, broken desks, peeling paint, and overall shabbiness of the place.
“We have a brand-new set, though,” she said when Patrick, Kathryn, Doug, and I reached the newsroom. “Just built in the last six months.”
A news assignment manager named Robert backed up her claim as he led us from the newsroom to the set. When the morning show faded to a commercial break, a blonde woman with a teased bob and a bright-blue blazer walked off the set and introduced herself as Olivia Knight, the main anchor for the morning show.
“We’re so happy to have both of you here today,” she told Patrick and Kathryn. “We’ll be doing the interview in about fifteen minutes on our soft set.” She pointed to three chairs arranged in front of some green plants and a superimposed background featuring the Charleston skyline. “I just hate to admit that we only have one microphone for Patrick.”
“That’s quite all right,” Kathryn said. “I know how it is, having worked in TV myself.”
“I read that,” Olivia said, but her attention wasn’t on Kathryn at all. Instead, she tossed Patrick an award-winning, pageant-ready smile. “And how does it feel to be in South Carolina after such a fantastic win in New Hampshire?”
Patrick always had this kind of effect on women. Even me. Women liked Patrick Blanco as an overall rule, and even more so in person. Some people had it, and he always did.
“It’s been an honor. I’ve had a great time.”
A production assistant outfitted Patrick with the microphone, and when the time came for the interview, he and Kathryn sat across from Olivia with plastic grins affixed to their faces. He answered Olivia’s easy, simple questions, and she didn’t try to hide her attraction to him.
I took photos for Instagram, Facebook, Snapchat, and Twitter, but that didn’t stop me from thinking about my own growing attraction to my boss. I liked Patrick Blanco. A lot. Enough to kiss him. Enough to blur the line between boss and employee.
And enough for it to sting as I watched him take Kathryn’s hand during the interview and heap praise upon her.
“I don’t know what I’d do without her,” Patrick told Olivia, a near repeat of the line he’d given the voters at the campaign breakfast just a day before. “She’s my rock.”
Kathryn demurred; I narrowed my eyes. For a “fake relationship” or an “arrangement,” the two of them could seem awfully cozy at times. Patrick had such an uncanny way of making everything seem so smooth.
“Penny for your thoughts,” Doug said in a low voice next to me. “You don’t look happy.”
I jumped. “What are you talking about? I’m fine.”
“People can see your clenched jaw all the way in Chicago. You look pissed.”
“I’m not.” I raised my iPhone and took another photo of the interview, even though the phone already had plenty. “Just focused.”
Doug grunted, and his expression darkened. “Well, focus on this.”
“What?”
“You’re not going to like it, but it just came through on my phone.” Doug took his Blackberry out of his jacket pocket, clicked a few buttons, and showed me an email. “This.”
I looked from the phone, to him, and back again. “Is this for real? No way.”
He nodded. “It is. Believe it. Showed up right before we walked in here. I thought about waiting to tell you but—”
“No, it can’t be.” I took the phone from Doug and read the email again. A hot flash pulsed through me, and I struggled to keep my voice low. “This has to be a joke.”
Doug scoffed. “I sincerely doubt it is.”
“This is a disaster,” I said, more to myself than to Doug.
“You’re damn right it is,” Doug said.
Exclusive, read the headline on DailyMail.com in bold letters.Patrick Blanco is the father of my child!
“I’ve never met this woman in my life,” Patrick said an hour later at an emergency meeting with the senior staff.
Doug, Heather, and I huddled around Patrick in the very same hotel room where just one night before, he’d kissed me as if he never wanted to kiss anyone else again. I swept that from my mind, though, refusing to let myself think about it.
“How many times do I have to keep saying this? I’ve never met her.” Patrick said when the three of us exchanged a look. “We didn’t have a relationship.Ever.”
