She noticed he hadn’t left a voicemail this time. His previous two messages had been short, mostly asking her to call him back. A part of her was surprised he bothered calling her...as if he cared.
After seeing that her hair was in order and noticing that the taxi cab was outside, she grabbed her cell, handbag and portfolio. Stepping out of her house, she nearly jumped out
of her skin.
“Jesus! What are you doing here?” she asked Ben.
He stood within arm’s reach of her, looking amazingly sexy in a simply slim-fit Henley and jeans. He wore the Louis Vuitton sunglasses he had let her borrow while on Jake’s boat.
“You wouldn’t pick up my calls,” he explained.
“I didn’t feel like talking to you,” she replied and made a move to indicate she wanted to pass.
He didn’t budge.
“Kimani, I’m sorry.”
She took in a deep breath. He sounded sincere, and she rather suspected that apologies were not something he said often. But was it enough to absolve him of what he had done?
“I’ve already told Murray to increase the severance package for everyone,” he continued. “It’ll be a sliding scale after three months, but you’ll have up to six months of pay with full health benefits.”
“That’s very generous, Ben, but you can’t buy your way into everything.”
He seemed taken aback. “Do you know that when I bought the Tribune, the owners weren’t going to keep it open past three months? Now you get full pay without even having to go to work.”
“And if the Tribune wasn’t struggling? Would you still have purchased it?”
“Yes.”
“All because of that one article we ran?”
“That article could cost him the election in the end. I need to make it right for Uncle Gordon.”
Hearing the pain in his voice, a part of her wanted to comfort him, to tell him that it wasn’t his fault. But she wasn’t ready to forgive him.
“Does your uncle know what you did?” she asked him.
“No. I haven’t told him because he doesn’t have to know.”
“And because he wouldn’t have approved of what you’re doing!”
“I would have done what I did with or without Uncle Gordon’s approval.”
Kimani shook her head and tried to walk past him, but he caught her by the arm.
“Kimani, I’m sorry that you don’t have a job at the Tribune anymore. If there’s anything I can—”
“Oh, no, you’ve done enough. In fact, I have an interview to get to. So unless you want to make me late...”
Reluctantly, he let her go. “I’ll give you a ride to your interview.”
“I don’t want a ride or anything else from you.”
The words came out more sharply than she intended, but she was able to walk away and get into the taxi. After telling the driver her destination, she settled back into the seat and almost felt like crying. Had she done the right thing? Should she have been more forgiving? Did it matter?
The questions occupied her right up to the interview, which didn’t go as well as Kimani would have liked, so she wasn’t surprised when the magazine called her the next day and told her they were going to go with someone else.
THE REST OF THE WEEK, Kimani channeled her anger and misery into organizing the community event for Gordon. She had sent press releases to the media, gotten local grocery stores to donate bottled water, and coordinated with Gordon’s campaign staff to supply snacks and volunteers to take donations. The event was looking good.