PLAYING IT OUT

By Atonia Walpole

Part 2:

Six Months Later…

Cal gave his testimony and left the court room while Della stayed behind and covered the story. Her blog readership had increased since her name appeared with Cal’s on the initial story. Now she was a star in her own right, and while her stories still smelled of sensationalism and innuendo, she had her facts straight. She wasn’t cut from the same cloth as Cal, but she grew to admire the cloth as a whole.  She admired him, if only from a distance. He wouldn’t let her get too close, although she had tried to get past that wall he had surrounded himself with. Professionally he helped her when he could, and she had no problem dropping by his cubicle and fishing for information, but outside of the newspaper she hit that brick wall. Since he broke the story on Congressman Collins he’d gone into himself. Even Cam, the editor, mentioned it. Della suspected he was drinking.

Della watched as Anne Collins took the stand. There had been a question as to whether she would testify. Della had her pen and notebook ready and studied Anne on the witness stand. This was one woman who had gotten close to Cal. She wondered if Anne and Cal would get together after the trial was over. There had been rumors of a divorce. Cal had clammed up about Anne and no amount of needling on her part had produced a single line. Della looked down at her notes: beautiful blond wife, knew nothing about the affair until Sonia was killed, standing firm with Collins. Lying? After the prosecution finished questioning, the court recessed until the following Monday. Della folded her notebook, placing it in her bag. As she filed out of the courtroom she wondered which direction Cal had gone.

Cal went back to the newspaper office and worked, writing a piece on another story he was working on. Since he’d been subpoenaed to testify for the prosecution he hadn’t been allowed to write anything about the Collins story.  He hit the send button and stood up, checking his watch. It was time to get out for awhile. He picked up his jacket and left.

Della ran bodily into him as she was rushing back to blog the latest on the trial. “Cal, are you leaving? I wanted to talk to you.”

“Can it wait?” he asked, holding the door open for her.

“Well, yes, it can but…I won’t be long, Cal, maybe an hour. Could we meet somewhere?”

“Uh, yeah, Donnigan’s okay with you?”

“Sure…you’ll wait for me, right?”

“I’ll be there,” he said with a smile.

Cal was nursing his drink, waiting for Della, when he saw a familiar face working his way down the bar. “Hiya, Fletch. Trolling for tidbits?”

Tim Fletcher from The Post smiled broadly. “Well, lookee who’s here! I caught your act in the courtroom today. Must have been tough.”

Cal smiled.

“You left before Anne Collins testified. She was good; she was coached. Wasn’t you, was it? Yeah, I know you can’t talk to me. So how’ve you been? Haven’t seen you around much lately.”

“I work for a living, Fletch.” Cal sipped his drink.

Fletch chuckled, “That was a helluva job you did on Collins. Story of a lifetime. I hear you’re Cam’s golden boy now.”

“No more than I ever was.”

“Is it true you’re preparing an exposé on Pointcorp?  I ain’t passing information on.  I was just…”

“Yeah, I know you were just. You’ll just have to read The Globe and find out.”

Della walked into Donnigan’s and looked over the heads around the bar. Spotting Cal’s long tangled hair, she wound her way through the crowd. “You waited.”

“Hey, Della, have you met Fletch? He works for some rag called The Post,”

“Hi, I think I saw you in court today?” she said.

“Yep, doing my job…some of us have to work for a living,” he winked at Cal.

“What are you drinking?” Cal asked Della.

“Jack and coke,” she replied.

“Don’t tell me you work with this hack?” Fletch asked, looking Della over.

“Don’t talk to him,” Cal said, catching the bartender’s eye.

Cal found a table away from the crowded bar and sat down with Della.

“Thanks for waiting. I didn’t think it was going to take so long.”

“Did you dish it out?”

“Yeah, you still don’t take me seriously, do you?”

“That’s not true. I just don’t call what you do journalism.”

“Cal, have you read any recent posts?”

“No. If I want opinions I opt for the Editor’s rant.”

“But I’m not…never mind.” She drank her Jack and coke.

“So what was so important it couldn’t wait?”

Della took a breath, "I want to ask you something personal concerning Anne Collins. Now wait a minute, Cal, I have a right to ask; she was on the stand today.”

“If it’s personal, it’s not for blogging, Della.”

“Do you have something worked out with her for when this trial is over? I heard she’s filing for divorce, although she gave a good performance today on the stand as a dutiful wife.”

“No.”

“Elaborate?”

“No, there is nothing to elaborate about. I’m not sure I know where you’re going with this.”

“Stephen is out…you’re in.”

“If you write one fucking word that even hints at something like that, Della…”

“I’m not going to write that, Cal. I’m asking for my own information. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

Cal stared into her eyes across the little round bar table. “Why, why do you want to know?”

Della felt her heart beating. “Because if it’s not Anne…”

“And if it’s not?”

Della took a drink. “Then…I want it to be me.”

Cal blinked.

Part 3:

Another Drink

He wasn’t sure he’d heard her right. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”

Della looked down into her glass. “Yes…I do know.”

“I need another drink. How about you? Are you are you okay?”

“Oh, yes, I’m good.” Della watched his back as he made his way to the bar for a refill.

Cal couldn’t quite get his mind around Della. What could she see in him? He was nearly twice her age.  While he waited for his drink he caught sight of Fletch at the end of the bar. Fletch winked and nodded toward Della, grinning. He was going to have to set her straight.

“Look, um, Della, I keep my professional life and my personal life separate. I’m not looking for a relationship with a colleague. I’m not looking for a relationship with anybody. You’re a good looking young woman. I’m sure guys are lined up for you.”

“I’m not interested in guys lining up. I’m interested in you, Cal.”

“There’s not much here to hold your interest. You’d be awfully disappointed and then where would we be? Would you still be stopping by for tidbits of information or would you be embarrassed to see me? I’d be the joke of the day in your blog room.”

“No…you’re no joke. You’re the real thing. I want…I want to get to know you, get inside, get close. I think I’m a little in love with you.”

“You think? You don’t know me, Della, and what’s up here,” he pointed to his head, “is not worth looking into. I’m nearly twice your age…how old are you?”

“Twenty-six. Age doesn’t matter to me. It’s the man, it’s you. I would never discuss you with anyone at the paper. I try to keep my life separated, too, and I don’t discuss personal matters at work.”

Cal took a drink. “ You wouldn’t have to, they’d smell it. You think you could go out with me and keep it secret? You forget where you work.”

Della sipped her drink. It was already rumored that she was sleeping with Cal. “I don’t forget, but to tell you the truth I don’t care what anybody says or thinks. I care about you.”

Cal looked up and saw another newsman coming into the bar, “We need to get out of here. It's getting a little crowded.”

Della followed his gaze. “That’s Tom Brinkman from WDTV.”

“Yeah, are you ready?” Cal picked up his jacket.

Out on the sidewalk she asked, “Where are we going?”

“Ah, I’m going home unless there’s something else.”

“Take me with you.” She stopped in front of him, making him meet her eyes.

“Della, I…oh, fuck it! Come on.” He took her arm. He was probably going to regret this. There was nowhere for it to go. What the hell was he thinking?

He was going to do it; he was taking her to his apartment. Della touched the hand linked in her arm.

“I should warn you not to expect much,” he said as they climbed the stairs to his apartment.

“I’ve seen your cubicle,” she said and laughed nervously.  “Oh, my god!” she exclaimed when she walked into the room. "Well, it’s not as bad as your workplace.”

“I told you,” he said, pulling off his jacket and tossing it on a chair. “Want a drink?”

“Oh, sure.” Now that she was actually there she felt unsure of herself. She’d dreamed of this moment but this reality was different. This was where he lived and worked. She looked around the apartment. It was messy, piled up with papers and books, CDs and a stack of old record albums.

“Do you have a turntable to play these?”

Cal handed her a drink. “Yeah somewhere. I haven’t listened to them in a long time.”

“Thanks,” she said, taking the drink. “Do you, um, ever throw anything away?”

“Yeah, I take the trash out twice a week. Look, um, I don’t have many visitors up here. I’m not out to impress anybody with my housekeeping skills.”

“Anne was here.” She winced. Why had she said that?

“So was Stephen. They’re…they were friends of mine.” He took a drink.

“Do you ever have…I mean is there someone…”

“No.”

“You just go to work and come home to this every night…alone?”

“That’s about it. I’m a pretty dull guy. I told you you’d be disappointed.”

“No, I’m not disappointed.” She looked at him over her glass, taking a slow drink, remembering the feel of his arms around her at the hospital after the shooting, the strong solid strength of him.  The sleazy PR guy asked her if she was sleeping with him and she hadn’t answered him because she wanted it to be true. She put her glass down and moved close to him and looked up into his eyes.

Cal looked down at her. If he moved one muscle he was in trouble. She placed a hand on his chest…the muscles moved on their own.

“Leave, leave now. I shouldn’t have brought you here,” he said into her hair, holding her tightly.

“No,” she murmured, sliding her arms around his waist and resting her head on his chest. She could hear his heart pounding away.

“Don’t do anything today you’ll regret tomorrow.” That was what was running through his mind when he broke away and looked down, his lips slightly parted. “You have to go before we both have something to regret.”

“Cal, no regrets. I want to stay with you tonight.”

He looked  up and away, tossing his hair back. “I like you, Della. We worked pretty good together. I don’t want to screw that up. You don’t know what you’re doing here. Hell, I don’t know what you’re doing here. It’s better if you just go and we can remain friends.”

“You think I’ll hate you in the morning? Cal, this is not something I haven’t thought about. I think about you a lot, actually.”

“Yeah, well the reality of me ain’t pretty, honey. You have no idea. I’m too old for you. Go find one of your blog buddies to shack up with.”

“I’m not interested in them. Why did you bring me here? You want to be with me. I know you do.”

“Della…I brought you here to…to scare the hell out of you. This is what I am. You look around at this mess. This is me, only I’m worse inside.”

“You’re afraid, aren’t you, afraid of letting anyone get close to you?”

“Maybe…maybe I found out it's better not to trust anybody. It’s easier that way when you’re coming down.”

“You don’t trust me?  What do you think I would do…blog an affair? This is crazy! I can’t believe I’m standing here begging you to sleep with me. I don’t do things like this.” She reached for her coat and looked around for her handbag.

“You see, it’s already starting. By Monday you’ll be angry, embarrassed, you won’t speak to me. I’ll be the biggest asshole in DC.”

Della hesitated, rocking back and forth slowly. “Now that’s saying something.” She looked up and smiled.

Cal smiled back.  He watched her  drop her coat and bag back on the chair. “You aren’t leaving?”

“No.” Della picked up her drink and found a seat, meeting his gaze from the sofa.

ON TO PART 4

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