Faithful in Her Fashion

What went for Fitzgerald went for O'Reilly in spades. The governor would be sure to be photographed with the distinguished Dr. Simone O'Reilly recently back from Africa. He would hold her close and make some quotable comment when asked about her recent quarantine. They hadn't as yet written the quote but were trying for something good.

The Governor's Ball was on schedule to kick off his presidential bid. Carrie was as pleased with the preparations as her boss. The fact that she was headed for a curve in the road never occurred to her. She would be there of course escorted by her fiance, Raymond Emerson. Ray would dance with her. The couple would smile for the cameras, but when no one was looking Ray's eyes would be on Assembly majority leader Jose Martin-Prez, seven-term Assemblyman from the Bronx. A tall, attractive man in his fifties with a wife twenty-five years his junior.

Ema Martin-Prez was the former Ms. Ema Kline, an international fashion model with a taste for the finer things in life. There was no denying she was attractive and attracted men faster than her Alfa-Romeo collected speeding tickets. So far her assemblyman husband had protected her from both hazards of a fast life. As counsel to the majority, Raymond Emerson had significant interaction with Mr. and Mrs. Martin-Prez. But for the first hour of the dancing, he studiously avoided them.

Susan Singleton showed up on the arm of Anthony Greco. If anyone thought she would make a quiet entrance, they were mistaken. She appeared in a Couture black gown with a necklace of emeralds worth more than all the other bubbles on display that evening put together. She and the governor exchanged greeting and mutually bemoaned the absence of the lady's husband.

"He's away on pressing business. Another unpleasant murder trial," Susan said.

The governor extended his regrets and took credit as Foxy's former teacher for the student's apparent skill. Then they broke, the governor to continue greeting his guests and Susan to work the room that was filled with her wealthy friends and relatives. Greco tagged along behind her, clearly eclipsed by the woman he sought to possess.

The O'Reillys arrived shortly after Susan and before the city's mayor, whose appearance was the sign for the twenty piece band to begin playing. They were a robust set of musicians with a broad repertoire. Carrie had approved the playlist and set it up for two ninety minute sets with an hour break in the middle for some speeches and to let the crowd interact. Each set would begin with a mix of fast and slow numbers but half way through, a move to mostly sweet slow songs.

It was an hour into the first dance set that Tony Greco made his move. He asked Susan out into the garden. Carrie had been watching. Ray was by then dancing with Mrs. Martin-Prez. It was their first dance of the evening but would not be their last. Carrie took the opportunity to engineer the dance between Simone and the governor.

While the photographers were busy capturing the governor dancing with the pretty doctor, who had been so cruelly incarcerated by his political rivals, Carrie took the opportunity to dance with the Doctor's husband.

"My turn, Jimmy," Carrie said.

He didn't hesitate but put his arms around her and pulled her close.

"That feels good," she said.

"And you feel good and look good," he said.

She was in a slinky silver dress that showed her cleavage to her navel and was slit high over her right leg. She had picked the dress specifically to show off, knowing that Jimmy's wife would be there. Simone O'Reilly was in a more sedate green gown. A dress chosen knowing the other woman would see it. Simone looked remarkably elegant, but not sexy. Carrie was going for sultry and achieving it, but Simone was playing the good wife. It was a game of spin worthy of a Susan Singleton. When Simone's dance with the governor ended, she was immediately captured by another dance partner.

"Did you set this up," Jimmy asked Carrie.

"The reason for inviting you was to show off how supportive we are of your wife's courageous activities. The Pols will all want their dance and their photograph," Carrie answered, "And, I get time with her husband."

Carrie led Jimmy out a side door into the garden. It was a dark evening, but the grounds were bathed in the light from the State Capitol's South Mall, a complex of office buildings and a saucer-shaped theater structure.

"My god it's beautiful on a night like this," Jimmy said.

"That was Rocky's intention," Carrie agreed.

Nelson Rockefeller had built the elaborate and impractical mall, a city within the city of Albany. The scale was off; its structures were too large for ordinary humans. But, it was something to look at even if best appreciated from a distance.

Jimmy started to say something, but Carrie stopped him by putting her fingers to his lips and pulling him off to the side. Looking over her shoulder, he could see a tall couple bathed in the silvery light from the mall. They were locked in a deep kiss, and he would have recognized them anywhere. It was Mrs. Fitzgerald and Tony Greco.

When she had them far enough away, Carrie said, "Tony's making his pitch."

"Pitch?"

"He's asking her to marry him?"

"I maybe wrong, but that looks like Steven Fitzgerald's wife."

"It is, but Tony doesn't see that as a problem."

"Then I would say he's both brave and foolish," Jimmy whispered.

"You think Foxy will object?" she asked.

"I expect he will do a little more than object, But I have a better question for you, what will Mrs. Martin-Prez do when she finds out about her husband and your fiance?"

Carrie covered her mouth to stifled her laugh, "So, you noticed."

"The coy bit between the wife and your man was artfully done but not entirely believable. Which raised the obvious question, why were they playing such a game? But once you ask that, what is truly going on is obvious. So how long have you known, and who else is in on it?"

"Ema's is aware and plays her part as do I," Carrie said, "Ray and the assemblyman go back to Ray's student days. We play the couple for our mutual benefit. Sorry, I didn't tell you, but I never thought we would end up this serious."

Jimmy tried to see her eyes in the dim light, but all this did was open him to the kiss she gave him.

"Sorry love," she said, "I've played you false. Ray and I are good friends. He needed a beard, and I needed the boost his connections could give me. It got me on the governor's staff. But, I got my current job on my own merit."

Jimmy could only shake his head. It explained so much.

He thought a second, and let the implications sink in, "You think, we are serious?"

"Yes, I didn't intend it, but I believe it has happened."

The music stopped inside, and some guests began to amble out. Carrie pulled away from Jimmy, "I better go play governor's assistant until the music starts again," she said.

Jimmy watched her go, and as he did, he saw Susan pull away from Greco and head inside.

"Mrs. Fitzgerald does not look all that happy," he thought, but as Susan passed back into the mansion, Simone came walking out. She looked around until she saw Jimmy standing over to one side of the garden.

As she came up to her husband Simone nodded to the office buildings of the mall and said, "quite the site. Have you been admiring the view?"

"Yes," he replied, "And other things. Are you finished dancing with the big wigs or just resting?"

"The music has stopped, but when it starts again, I would like to dance with my husband," she said taking his arm.

"I would like that," he replied.

"Truly?"

"Yes, truly."

"Jimmy, I asked before, but I'm asking again. Do you love Carrie."

He stifled the too ready response and considered her question. He hadn't loved the person he thought Carrie to be, but that person didn't exist. This woman was a young girl hiding a secret from the world. He could love that girl if he were free, but was he free? He looked at his wife and said, "No, I don't love her, but I would if I didn't love you. I just can't see myself loving two women at the same time."

Simone nodded her head gravely. She didn't like his answer, "It's a nice night. So unlike the nights in Africa and yet oddly the same. On a night like this, I want to be with you more than anything," she said.

"But we both know you won't stay with me. You will go back to Africa or some place similar because that's where you need to be," he said.

She gripped his arm tight and moved in close to whisper, "I'm so sorry."

He leaned into her and kissed away the tears beginning to form at the corners of her eyes, "I know, I know," he whispered back.

The music began to play again. He put his arms around her and said, "Come on you owe me a dance or two."

*

Ray Emerson escorted his fiance home to her State Street apartment. Allegedly they shared this apartment as they shared his in the Chelsea neighborhood of Manhattan. In some sense, they did share the apartments but not the beds.

"Tired," Ray asked a noticeably weary Carrie.

"Yes, no matter how well you plan there is always so much to do, and all those details that go wrong if you don't stay right on top of them," she replied.

"Is your boyfriend one of those ... details?" he said.

"You almost sound jealous."

"Concerned for you. He seemed very into his wife. She's a very beautiful woman. Although in that dress you are way sexier."

"Thanks, I didn't think you noticed."

"Is he good to you?" Ray worried about her. His concern was genuine.

"He's good for me, and beneath the hard shell, he's a kind and gentle man."

"Who defends serial killers," Ray said as he poured himself a small scotch from the bottle they kept in the kitchen cupboard. Carrie busied herself making a cup of herbal tea. Their drinks were to relax them after the evening which was filled with tension. Carrie had allowed herself two glasses of wine through the course of the evening, but Ray had stuck to club soda.

Carrie's fussing with the tea kettle gave her time to think.

"I'm not sure where Jimmy stands in that serial killer case. Yes, he fought the DNA testing, but something feels wrong about the subsequent arrest. He's too smart to let his client get caught like that — unless?" she said pouring her tea.

"You know something?" Ray asked.

"No, but I suspect he had something to do with the stocking found in the trash."

"How so?"

"Can't say, but planting it would be his kind of trick," she speculated.

"A dangerous move if you were to get caught."

"Daring yes, but if I know Jimmy, he plans on not getting caught."

"He sounds like your kind of man."

"Oh, he is, but such men are way too expensive a luxury for women in my line of work."

"Are you trying to convince me or yourself

"Maybe both of us," she said.

"Look I want you to know anytime you need out of our arrangement let me know," Ray said.

She knew, he was sincere. Carrie gave him a kiss on the cheek, and said, "Well, that won't be tonight, or anytime soon. Now I need some sleep."

It had begun for them in an odd way. John Martin was a mass torts maven. The half Jewish and half Purto Rican lawyer had taken his large contingency fees and purchased himself a gerrymandered Assembly seat in the Bronx. John Martin, now known as Jose Martin-Prez, having withdrawn from his active law practice, was filling his non-political time teaching at Yale. His mass torts seminar was highly popular and restricted to just fifteen lucky students a semester.

Carrie Wilson had been a first-year law student at Yale; the number one ranked law school in the nation. She was seeking to fill the one elective she had for the spring term. Carrie had been an excellent college student, graduating with high honors from Wellesley. Law School had been the equivalent of dumping a bucket of ice cold water on her head. The academic work was fierce, with a demanding sixty hour a week schedule of class and study. This Carrie could live with. What she hated was the ethos. It was two-thirds hypocrisy and one part cynicism. It was a culture that fostered moralless alumni while condemning their lack of scruples and seeking ever bigger endowments.

In the spring term, she was expected to take a clinic, to help out in a legal aid office or a poverty clinic, to gain hands-on experience and make the law school look like a benefactor and not the training ground for societal leeches. Carrie's fellow students were all gung ho to argue cases and do real work. Carrie wanted politics, which oddly was the social-conscience alternative. The Martin-Prez seminar gave her the opportunity to rub shoulders with a politician while avoiding clinic work at least for her first year.

Carrie got a recommendation for the mass torts seminar from her torts professor, who happened also to be a Wellesley graduate, but Carrie still had to pass an interview for admittance to the popular class taught by the tall handsome and very single professor. The gatekeeper interviewer was Ray Emerson, the equally handsome, although some said beautiful, teaching assistant to the Honorable Martin Prez.

Ray interviewed Carrie in the Law School coffee shop. Over a latte, he went through the interview motions, but mostly he flirted with the pretty first-year law student. Coffee led to a date and then another. Carrie may have graduated Wellesley with honors, but her single-sex education didn't cover men. She was not strictly a virgin, having lost her maidenhead over a spring break in South Padre Island. It was brief, painful, and a one off. Returning home, she did her best to make the next experience more pleasant, but with little luck.

Try as Carrie would she continually found herself dating creeps who were all hands and only thought with their dicks. The athletes were in love with themselves and the nerds in love with their tech. One group grabbed you in public, and the other fumbled ineffectively in the dark. Then she met Ray, a gentleman by every definition of the word. Someone who was funny and treated you like someone special. He was affectionate without being sexually aggressive.

Carrie dated Ray for all of the spring term. They didn't have sex, but she was too naïve to be concerned. Ray and the Assemblyman arranged an internship for her over the summer. She had a room in the University dorm in Albany off Western Ave. They paid her a small salary to make copies and sort mail for the Assembly Education Committee. She also helped out the junior assembly people who had little or no staff.

Martin-Prez's wealth had already made him a person of influence. Ray was the Assemblyman's right hand. Their office was in the abstractly shaped legislative building. In those days the upper corridors had become a bit run down in appearance. But Martin-Prez had refurnished his inner office space into a leather and hardwood executive space. Ray's office was smaller than his boss', but no one saw the assemblyman who did not greet Ray first.

There was an exception to this last rule. Carrie was running early for a change. It was the third week in August. The Legislature let out for a late summer break four weeks before. The late term end, the result of the school financing problem. New York clung to an arcane method of financing public education primarily on real property taxes. The State provided subsidies, but that had provoked a series of lawsuits from New York City which the State lost thereby making a bad system worse.

The minions slaving away in the Capital for the Assembly Education Committee finally had all the various materials printed and organized for the next legislative session. Carrie got off early on the last Friday of her internship. Next week it was back to the law school grind. But first, a chance to grab Ray for a warm summer weekend at Lake George. They had a weekend planned on the big Lake at the South Eastern Corner of the Adirondacks. Part wilderness preserve and part beach town, Lake George was the place for young people to get away and get loose.

The elevator took her quickly to the tenth floor in the all but empty building. Assemblyman Martin-Prez's outer office was empty. The chairs were tight to the desks, and the computers turned off. A knock and a turn of the handle showed Ray's office empty as well. She was deciding whether to sit and wait for him or call his cell phone when she heard what sounded like a groan coming from the assemblyman's inner office. Jose Martin-Prez was supposedly in Martha's Vineyard with his new girlfriend, the model Ema Kline.

"Perhaps Ray's working out on the Lifecycle," she thought. The assemblyman kept the expensive stationary bike in the corner of his office.

Making one of the worst decisions of her life, she decided to peek into the inner office. There was a workout going on. Ray was bent over the assemblyman's desk. John/Jose was behind him pumping the biggest male member Carrie had ever seen into Ray's ass. Ray was naked but for his dress shirt. John had merely dropped his pants. He had one hand pulling back on Ray's hair and the other squeezing the younger man's genitals in a cruelly tight grip.

"Whose bitch are you," John demanded into Ray's ear.

"Yours, always yours," Ray replied.

The two were so into it, they didn't see the door open, the shock on the young woman's face, or her hurriedly closing the door again.

Carrie raced from the office. The noise of the front door banging shut disturbed the couple in the inner office, but by the time they reacted, she was five floors down the stairs. She didn't stop until she reached the building's often-filmed lobby. She was crying openly as she entered that larger than life lobby. Its inhuman proportions compounded her grief. This space that had played stand in for an Arabian palace and many a futuristic interiorscape was a cold and remorseless place for a young girl to bleed tears for a lost love.

She hadn't known she was falling in love. She didn't carefully think through the course that her life was taking. She had gone to law school because that was her next step. She had chosen government service over legal practice to escape the callousness of the law. She had fallen for the good man to escape the creeps. Now what?

Ester Markowitz was a fourteen-term State Senator. After thirty plus years representing her East Side Manhatten neighborhood in the Assembly and State Senate, she was ready for retirement. She would not be running again. The jackals vying for her safe Democratic seat were already calling each other names with the primary election over a year away.

Ester had fought those battles many times as she made her bones in the cruel political world of New York. But as it was nearing time to leave, she found herself softening. Perhaps this is why the Jewish Grandmother who was the alter ego of the hard politician stopped, on seeing the crying young woman.

"Can I help?" Ester asked the clearly distraught Carrie.

"No, no one can help me now," Carrie whispered, trying to wipe the tears away with the heels of her hands.

"Oh, nonsense. Come have a cup of tea in my office. I have a very nice office, the result of many years of telling people one thing and doing the opposite."

Ester chuckled at her little joke and took Carrie's arm, leading the distraught girl to her homey fourth-floor office, a woman's office different in every way from the leather clad tenth-floor office that Carrie had recently fled. There Ester made tea and provided tissues to dry Carrie's tears.

"You're the girl Ray Emerson's been showing around. Aren't you?" Ester asked.

Carrie only nodded.

"See or hear something you weren't meant to."

Another nod in reply.

"Oh dear, to be young again and capable of such hurt," Ester said with a small sigh.

Carrie looked up and stared at the woman.