Tim and Steve chatted at the fundraiser and immediately clicked. Steve thought it was as if Tim felt his pain and anguish. He did. Maybe not on this level, but something similar. Tim told him he was originally from Seattle, where his family was big in banking. When his father found out he was gay, he was ostracized from the family. It devastated his mother, who died shortly after from what most people thought was a broken heart. Tim never forgave his father.
“Tim, I’ve thought a lot about this, so hear me out. I think I need to go to my father and tell him I want to come out. To hell with what it might do to his precious campaign. Why should I have to suffer so he can succeed? We care about each other and I’m sick of hiding it.”
“Well, I’m tired of hiding it as well. But don’t you think the better choice is to wait and see what happens? I mean it’s not a sure bet he’s going to win, and you and I both know two votes he’s not going to get. I mean, how funny is that? He can’t get his own son’s vote.” They both burst out laughing.
“Listen Steve, I’ve been through this too and it’s sometimes interesting how these things work out. One minute these guys are toasting dignitaries and the next minute they’re just toast.” They couldn’t contain themselves, they almost hurt from laughing.
“Yeah, you’re right. I’ll bide my time – for now. But, if it looks like he’s going to win, I may have to do something.”
Tim looked at him quizzically, “What’s that mean - do something?”
“You know, talk to him; tell him what I’m going to do, come out. What did you think I meant?”
“Oh, nothing…I guess.”
“Tim, I may not like my father or what he represents, but he would have to truly do something despicable to me or my mom or Morgan, for me to retaliate.”
“Like what? Quietly kick you out of the family and then talk behind your back to family and friends, telling them how queer you were and how he couldn’t believe you were actually his son?”
Steve could see the hate in Tim’s eyes, the bitterness and anger. He’d never seen this before. It scared him.
“Oh, they cluck their little heterosexual tongues and slowly, but not so gently, erase you from their lives. Is that what it would take, Steve?”
Steve sat there stunned. He’d never heard Tim talk like this, let alone seen him so outraged.
“I don’t know. Maybe. I guess, yeah, that would probably do it. Are you alright? I’ve never seen you like this.”
“Sure, I’m fine,” Tim said slowly calming down. “Pass me some more wine and I’ll probably forget I ever said anything.”
Sometimes Steve stayed the night, sometimes he didn’t. This night he decided to go home. Tim’s remarks and deep-seeded hatred of his father kept haunting him. What bothered him the most though was he kept wondering if he too could hate his father that much. After all, he had asked him to hide his lifestyle, stay away, secluded, except of course when he wanted him to show up at one of his fundraisers or receptions. Then it was okay to try to look like the All-American family. No imperfections, no flaws, no secrets.
But, his father was in fact “erasing” him. So, if he came out or threatened to, he’d have to disappear. Just like Tim.
Maybe that ‘something’ he mentioned to Tim, was in fact more than just talk. He’d have to wait and see.
Chapter 4
“Jack, what time are you meeting Bartlett?”
“She said she’d be there around one.”
Democratic Senator Don Marks, and his chief aide, Jack Johnson, were hoping Sonja Bartlett, whom they’d hired secretly, would provide them with some incriminating information on presidential hopeful, Cornell Eastman.
Sonja had completed law school at Northwestern. She was a tall, statuesque young woman, who had supplemented her income by doing some modeling. She had long dark hair, almond eyes, beautiful by everyone’s account. While attending law school, she went to work for a local law firm and found herself engaged in investigative work. Mostly search and find stuff, but she loved it and was very good at it. The firm had actually offered her a job as their full time investigator, but she’d decided to finish school and see what happened. What happened was – she loved investigation more than law and became an independent private investigator. She’d made some great contacts and learned the ropes in her three years with the law firm. Two years later, she was on her own and had established a reputation as a thorough and relentless private investigator.
Late one afternoon, she got a call from a Mr. Jack Johnson. He told her he’d heard good things about her and possibly had some work for her. When quizzed about who he was and what this was about, he became vague. He did, however, ask her to meet him in a small downtown restaurant. She cautiously agreed.
She recognized him by the Cubs ball cap he told her he’d be wearing. He was a lean man with thick black hair and a face that spoke of subservience.
“Miss Bartlett?
“Yes, I’m Sonja Bartlett.”
“What do you say we take that table over there in the back,” he said pointing to an out-of-the-way booth.
As clandestine as this seemed, it was also intriguing. They moved silently to a secluded booth at the rear of the restaurant. Sonja kept thinking as they walked, “Who is this guy and what’s this about?”
“Here, this looks quiet. Okay with you?” he asked.
“Sure, can I ask you what’s…”
“Ms. Bartlett, do you have any idea who I am?”
“No. No I don’t. Should I?”
“Ms. Bartlett, are you in any way politically inclined?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, do you follow or are you active in any way in local or national politics?”
“No, not really. Why do you ask?”
“Well, I represent a particular faction that would like to have a certain political figure observed.”
“Observed for what?”
“That’s none of your concern. All we’re asking you to do is check him out.”
Sonja was uneasy. All this secrecy made her feel uncomfortable.
“Mr. Jackson, why me? There are a lot of PIs in Chicago.”
“You should feel honored, Ms. Bartlett. You came highly recommended.”
“By who? You know what, it doesn’t matter. I think I’ll pass. There’s way too much hidden agenda here. But thanks anyway.”
As she got up to leave, he reached out and grabbed her arm. His grip was firm and she could tell he meant business. It wasn’t threatening, but purposeful.
“Please, sit down.”
Reluctantly, she slid back into her seat. But if he didn’t clarify things real soon, she was gone.
“Okay, I’m listening.”
“Ms. Bartlett, the political world is a world of darkness. You only see what the press and media allow you to see. And their goals are to expose and exploit. Do you think that’s bad, Ms. Bartlett?”
“I don’t know. I guess, I never really considered it.”
“Well, this is a good time to rethink it. Our feeling, my group that is, believes in privacy. But if what goes on in private could or does have a negative impact on how that person deals with the public or compromises his or her political stance on certain issues, we feel that should be brought to everyone’s attention. Would you agree with that?”
“Yes. I would agree with that.”
“Good. It is on that basis we would like you to pursue this inquiry. This is a high level individual, who we think might have compromised his run for office. All you have to do is check into his interests, associates and daily activities. Does that sound fair and reasonable?”
“Maybe. Who are we talking about?”
He paused a moment, sizing her up. “Before I tell you, you need to realize that once I do, I will deny having ever had this meeting if you refuse to take the job and, if you say anything or make accusations later, we will tak
e action against you. Do you understand?”
She nodded reluctantly, almost fearful not to accept.
“His name is Cornell Eastman.”
“Are you kidding? He’s running for president. I think you have the wrong investigator.”
As she again rose to leave, he reached once more and grabbed her arm.
“Ms. Bartlett, how does $100,000 sound?”
Staggered by a momentary rush of disbelief, she quickly sat back down.
“Are you serious?”
“As I can be, Ms. Bartlett, as I can be!”
Unbelievable, $100,000! This could really get her off the ground, build her reputation, and take her to another level.
“I’ll do it. But only if it’s as you say, a check of his habits, interests and daily activities. I won’t get into finances, payoffs or anything of that nature. And this deals with Mr. Eastman only. No family members.”
Johnson stared across the table at her, “Agreed. Here’s $50,000 to get you started, with the rest due upon completion of your report. I will meet you here every third Thursday for updates. You are not to discuss this with anyone else and give your reports only to me. Understood?”
“Yes, understood.”
“Good I want to be clear about this. You have built a nice little career and we would hate to see anything happen…well, I’m sure we can trust you!”
Sonja had heard veiled threats before, but this was different, this was serious. That was fine. There was no way she was going to jeopardize what this could mean to her business, her “nice little career” as he put it.
Driving home, she kept thinking how this just came out of nowhere. A phone call, secluded meeting, and now she’s on the way to the bank with fifty big ones. Well, she loved investigative work, and it didn’t get much bigger than this. A presidential candidate. Mind-boggling!
Chapter 5
He sat staring out the window at the Chicago skyline. He could feel a knot in his stomach and painful tension running up his back into his head. Everything had been going so well. Now things were beginning to unravel.
Cornell Thomas Eastman sat all alone with his thoughts. This campaign was supposed to be a thing of beauty, a glorious ride to the White House. Then Eugene’s death, many questions would undoubtedly follow.
He remembered when Eugene came to work for Eastman, Jensen & Smith. The firm was one of the more prominent law practices in Chicago and was leading Cornell Eastman into the political arena. He enjoyed the trip, especially the power and fame that seemed to accrue as he went. Eugene White came aboard with a strong foundation in contract law, but more than that he seemed to have an insight into people. It was uncanny. And it was one of the first things that Cornell found interesting about him. The political mystique had already seeped into Cornell’s aspirations and he recognized in Eugene a man who could bolster his efforts.
Eugene White, a man of intelligence, with a disdain for women. Cornell could never understand that part of his personality, but felt it was better left alone. Beyond this, Eugene was a very private man. A small man with delicate features, who seemed to live in the shadows. Little was known about him away from the office. He came in, worked hard and disappeared. He did, however, have a gift for analyzing people on a political level. Cornell planned on harnessing this power and using it to help take him where he wanted to go.
He wasn’t sure exactly how to approach Eugene about being part of his political team, but thought the straightforward approach might work - it did. Eugene was very receptive and indicated how much he admired and respected Cornell. This came as somewhat of a shock, because Eugene had always been so reserved and unapproachable. Nevertheless, the friendship and partnership were struck. Quickly, Eugene became an integral part of Cornell’s political machine. He handled the money and contract aspects with aplomb. But his true value was in that x-ray vision he possessed. Cornell marveled at how he could read people, sense their uncertainties, apprehensions and most importantly if they were telling the truth. It was truly a wonder to behold. The bond between them grew stronger with time. The mutual respect and admiration increased almost daily. When two people are cast into a war-like situation, fighting to move ahead, gain ground and achieve a common goal, they learn to count on each other in a special way. You don’t ask if the other one is doing his or her job, you just know it gets done. Ultimately, you work as one. Cornell and Eugene personified that end.
Cornell left the law firm to pursue politics and Eugene went with him. They quickly became known as Batman & Robin. Not so much for what they did, but how they did it.
But there was turmoil brewing in Cornell. He didn’t know why, but he found himself attracted to Eugene. He believed Eugene felt the same way, but nothing had ever been said. For a long time he kept it to himself. After all, he was happily married, had two children and with any luck, was going to run for president. Sexual improprieties were not something he wanted or needed. He’d seen and heard enough of this sort of thing about other candidates, and there was no way he was going to cross that line.
Late one evening, well into his second term as senator, the game plan was being put together for the run for Republican presidential nominee. It was around one in the morning and everyone had taken off, except for Eugene. Eugene would set these meetings up in nice downtown hotels, so they could have privacy and, just as important, room service. They’d had cheap pizza and expensive wine, which had become a trend. Cornell was exhausted and complained of a slight headache and tension in his neck. As they downed the last of the wine, Eugene offered to give him a neck massage. One thing led to another and before he knew it, he had crossed that line. For the next few days, the tension was oppressive. What had he done? With everything at stake, how could this have happened? He wasn’t sure, but it had. Worse yet… he’d enjoyed it.
They soon settled into a routine, which meant meeting in dark, secluded hotels in parts of town known for their privacy. They’d borrow staff cars, or Cornell would take Warren, his security guard’s car. They would put on ball caps, dark glasses and park several blocks away, then rendezvous at various times of the day or night. They had it down to a science. It went on for months – until Eugene was killed.
Not only had Eugene and his death taken a toll on Cornell’s political future, it had also affected his marriage. Jennifer had always been patient and supportive, but when you’re running for president, the family pressure is overwhelming. That in itself is a lot to deal with, and she’d held up well. But this, this would be more than she could bear. Undoubtedly, she’d noticed how they had drifted apart over the past few months. No intimacy, no romance, just no time for each other. He hoped she would stack it up to pressure and nothing more. Sadly, Eugene was dead, and Cornell felt sick inside, but it had ended the affair…he thought.
Chapter 6
Sonja had been following him for days and it had all been pretty routine - in fact, boring. Meetings, receptions, dinners, work in the office, go home. If this is what running for office was like…ah, but then there was that $100,000. Although nothing was probably ever going to happen that would even remotely be considered interesting or controversial, she’d stick with it and enjoy her trips to the bank.
One afternoon, while having a late lunch and reading an E.L. Doctorow novel, she noticed Mr. Eastman’s car come out of the parking garage. The car windows were darkly tinted and she couldn’t tell if he was alone. He was probably just heading off to another meeting or speaking engagement. Reluctantly, she wrapped up her sandwich, put the book down and started tailing him. She’d followed him enough that the places he went were always the same, and she felt like she could almost get there ahead of him. Not this time. For some reason he started wandering through town and seemed to be driving in no particular direction with no specific purpose. This was a first. She’d never seen him do this before. Hey, this might actually get interesting, she thought.
As they headed into a less than desirable part of town, Sonja’s curiosity was getting the best of her. Where in the heck was he going, and why? They drove like this for half an hour. Finally, he pulled up and parked on a dark side street. She stayed at a discreet distance, with her camera at the ready. He got out of the car with a ball cap on, obviously trying to be anonymous. She decided to cruise at a safe distance behind him. He walked down two blocks and over one, and then disappeared into the Herbert Hotel. She’d been at this long enough to know when things were getting strange, and this was about as strange as it gets, for a presidential nominee. Maybe, just maybe, she was on to something. She parked the car close by and waited until he’d been inside for several minutes.
The place looked lonely, dark and dingy. What in the world would Cornell Eastman be doing here? She figured it was one of two things. Either drugs, and there’d never been any sign of that in his life, or illicit sex. Again this had never been part of his lifestyle. She was definitely confused, but all the more determined to find out what was going on. She donned her incognito apparel, a large overcoat, which would accommodate her camera and hyper-sensitive sound gear, a floppy hat, and made her way into the building. She had no idea where he might be, but by moving through the building slowly from top to bottom with her sound equipment, she’d find him.
Sure enough, on the fifth floor she picked up his voice, along with another man. It was definitely Eastman’s voice, but she didn’t immediately recognize the other one. After listening for a few minutes, she moved down the hallway past the restroom and stationed herself with her night camera in a dark secluded doorway. This was an old building and the halls and stairways were dimly lit, making it difficult to see. She waited quietly. An old man with a cane struggled by, not noticing her, and disappeared into a room down the hall. She heard a door open. A man was walking down the hall toward her, then turned and went into the bathroom. It was hard to recognize him at first, but she silently shot away with her camera. As he entered the bathroom she could see who it was - Eugene White. She certainly knew who he was and had seen him many times with Mr. Eastman… but never like this.