Different Circles

Jake took the phone from his father and then stepped out of the room and into the kitchen before putting it to his ear. “Hey, Paulie,” he said. “What’s up?”

“Hey, bro,” she said. “Sorry to interrupt family time, but I just got a call from Meghan.”

“Meghan?” he asked. “About what?”

“She tried to call you but all she has is your cell phone number and it just went to voicemail.”

“I turned it off and put it on the charger when I got here,” Jake said.

“I figured,” Pauline said. “In the future, I’d suggest that you give Meghan a list of numbers where you can be reached when you’re out of town.”

“Point taken,” Jake said. “What’s going on?”

“Apparently Jack Fenton—he’s one of the sleazeball celebrity reporters at the Watcher—got in touch with Meghan’s mother today. I’m reciting this all thirdhand at this point, so take it with a grain of salt, but he told her mom that he has information that Meghan and you and Teach are more than just employers and employee, that he has even heard suggestions that Meghan is not entirely free to leave the situation if she wants to, and that he wanted to interview Meghan to get her side of the story before the Watcher publishes it in next week’s issue.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Jake said, shaking his head. “Where do they come up with this shit?”

“I’m going to guess that they’ve been talking to the locals again and getting their speculations,” Pauline said. “I know there is no basis in fact for this tale, so maybe we have something going for us here.”

“What do you mean?” Jake asked. “We’ve been down this road many times. They can print whatever they want. As long as we cannot prove it is not true there is nothing we can do about it.”

“That’s always been the case before,” she said, “but the times are changing a little bit. The standards for defamation lawsuits are starting to slide a little more in favor of the defamed.”

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“Ever since Carol Burnette successfully sued the National Enquirer there have been a handful of other cases that have come up. Most of the time, the tabloid wins, but in a few, they have lost and been hit with pretty significant punitive damages.”

“You’re saying that we sue them if they print this?” Jake asked. “How does that help anything? Meghan’s name still gets dragged through the dirt and it would be years before we would even get to tell our side.”

“True,” she said, “but that’s not where I was going with this.”

“Where are you going with it?” he asked.

“Maybe nowhere,” she said. “I would still brace Meghan for the worst if I were you. But I’m going to make a few phone calls and try to get something other than second and thirdhand information. I’m not going to issue any statement to the reporter just yet. Maybe I can do something with what I gather.”

“That doesn’t sound all that hopeful,” Jake said.

“It’s not,” she said. “But it’s what I can do. Why don’t you call Meghan and talk to her—she’s kind of upset—and while you’re at it, get me her parents’ phone number. I think I need to talk to her mom as well.”

“She’s not going to want to talk to you,” Jake warned.

“I’m sure she won’t,” she said, “but that’s okay, because I don’t really want to talk to her either. But it has to be done.”

Pauline was sitting at her desk in her home office. She was wearing a pair of sweatpants and an old t-shirt. Her hair was a mess. Obie was in the living room, watching something on the TV. Tabby was in bed. They were supposed to head out for the airport in less than twelve hours. She sighed as she picked up the phone to dial the Zachary’s home number. It was now just past nine o’clock at night on the eve of a holiday weekend. Well past the reasonable hour and day for discussing business such as this, but she wanted to get it done. She had instructed Meghan to call her mother and prepare her for this phone call. At least there was that.

She took a little sip of the white wine she had sitting next to her open legal pads. It was only her second glass of the night and she was reasonably sober for this. She dialed the San Luis Obispo number and listened to the phone ring on the other end. On the third ring, it was picked up and a female voice said, “hello?”

“Mrs. Zachary?” Pauline asked.

“Speaking,” the voice said coldly.

“I’m Pauline Kingsley,” she said. “I understand your daughter told you to expect a call from me?”

“She did,” the voice said, still cold as ice. “Though I’m not sure we have anything to talk about.”

“We have quite a bit to talk about, Mrs. Zachary,” she said. “My interest is the same as yours in this matter. I wish to keep these vicious and unfounded rumors about your daughter out of print in that sleazy rag. I don’t know if I will be successful at this. The First Amendment gives these tabloid journalists an awful lot of wiggle room when it comes to printing speculation and innuendo. But if I am to be successful in this venture, I need information.”

“What kind of information?” she asked.