Matt picked up the paper and started reading, while Herman waited. Julia lifted a finger and said, “Give him a minute.”
Matt paled. “What the hell is that?”
“It’s Alesha’s next op-ed in the Post,” Rachel said. “Written by me.”
“Summarizes the whole scandal,” Julia said. “I might have added a few choice details. Like that part about you having sex in the bathroom with your girlfriend at the Vasquez anniversary party.”
“You can’t print that!” He slammed his hand on the table. “It’s defamation.”
“No, it isn’t,” Rachel said. “Read it again, Matt. It’s all true.” She paused. “Except for the bathroom part. Was it in the study?”
“This is blackmail.” He glanced at Herman, who kept his eyes on the op-ed. “You fucking shark. You can’t blackmail people to win a case.”
“But paying someone off to win a federal election is fine?” Julia looked at Herman. “You’re right,” she said. “I don’t have the money you do. I could last eight, nine months in litigation, tops.” She tapped the op-ed. “But this? Costs nothing. And we can do it for years.”
Herman crumpled the article in one hand. “Don’t underestimate me, Julia.”
“You shouldn’t underestimate me.” The look she gave him was so lethal that if someone told Rachel that Julia put a hit out on Herman Abbott, she might actually believe them.
Ben lifted a hand. “Swords down. This is supposed to be a negotiation, so let’s negotiate.” Ben focused on Julia. “How about a monthly allowance until she gets back on her feet.”
“No allowance,” Rachel said. “I want the money I was promised. And the house.”
Matt shook his head. “That house is worth—”
“It’s my house.” She paused. “I also want the building on Broad Street.”
Matt’s confusion confirmed her suspicions. He didn’t remember that it was her idea to buy the building in the first place. Two years into their marriage she’d approached him about starting a nonprofit for young artists. She’d done the legwork, found the commercial space, and celebrated with champagne when they’d closed. Six months later, she was told the space was being used for his mayoral campaign headquarters. His staff had rotated in and out of the building ever since.
“I need that building,” he said. “For the campaign.”
“Based on the latest polls, I don’t think you’ll be needing it much longer.” Rachel crossed her legs and swiveled in her chair. “Find another place for your dying career prospects.”
“Just give it to her,” Ben said. “You can find another building.”
The room fell silent. Rachel’s demands sat next to Alesha’s article. Matt stared at them like someone had discovered the dead bodies he’d buried.
He finally conceded. “Okay.”
Ben grabbed his briefcase and stood. Matt didn’t move. He clasped his hands on the table and looked at Rachel with begrudging respect. “My campaign headquarters. Really? The money wasn’t enough?”
Rachel looked at Herman, who watched them with his dead, gray eyes. “When it’s for your dignity, it never is.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
I saw that naked picture you drew of the mayor’s wife.”
Nathan kept sweeping the floor next to Ruby Miller’s laundry basket. Her clothes had been dry for fifteen minutes now. Instead of shoving them in the basket and leaving like she’d done every other Saturday morning, she’d spread them out over a folding table and moved them from side to side like a shell game. She was barely five feet tall and had recently started using a walker. Her limited range of motion was the perfect excuse to linger.
Ruby usually spoke to him like the grandmother she was—blunt and maternal, but also slightly patronizing. But she had greeted him that morning with gentle condolences about his father. It had been two months since the funeral, and thanks to his weekly bereavement counseling sessions, he’d gotten better at accepting them graciously. Now that she knew he was okay, Ruby felt comfortable getting to the reason she’d decided to linger.
“You can’t do that, you know. Not these days.” She snatched a T-shirt from the pile and took her time balling it into a sloppy square. “People post all your business online. That’s why my sister Eunice uses that site with the little blue key to share her pictures.”