Chapter 14

"I'll do it," Jake said.

"You'll do it," Marcus repeated, his voice full of doubt.

"You'll do it?" Jess's hand went to her heart, and for the first time in days, excitement crept into her voice.

"He'll do it!" A teenage girl shouted out.

A few of the boys looked disgusted. "You've got to be kidding!"

"You're giving up!"

"Stay strong! Don't give in!"

"It was Filip's last piece of advice," Jake explained to them all.

Silence filled the air. It was New Year's Eve, and Marcus, Jess, and Jake were over at the Youth Center for their annual New Year's Eve brunch. They'd agreed to talk about anything but politics, but that became impossible because that morning the interior decorator’s soon-to-be-ex-husband surfaced. And instead of issuing the truthful denial Jake was expecting, the man blamed Jake for the impending divorce from his wife. "I caught Candace and Jake in bed in the Victorian House he said he was going to hire us to renovate," was the only infuriating statement Jake had needed to read before tossing the paper. He couldn’t bring himself to read it. The summary Jess gave him was enough. Not only did the man sound devastated, but he sounded like he also felt sorry for his wife, who Jake had supposedly led on at a vulnerable moment in her life. All in all, Jake came off like a callous jerk who had hurt them both. And where was Candace Stiles? She and Jake hadn’t seen eye to eye because she’d kept inserting her husband’s business into the conversation. But Jake was a good judge of character and the woman had seemed embarrassed and resigned about it, emotionally beaten down even, but not pushy or opportunistic. She’d never even made it past the first floor, admitting to him she didn’t think a business relationship between them would work out.

But Jake's opponents were lapping it up, practically commending the woman for 'hiding and trying to protect him.'

Jess pounded her fist on a table. "Grandpa Filip would not want us to endlessly mope around, trying to get things done. Look at our plates, we haven't even eaten!"

Jake managed a smile. "He'd be pretty exasperated with us."

"Yeah. Jake finally decides to go on She Said, She Said, and we can't get our butts off our chairs to make the call," Marcus agreed.

Marcus and Jess looked at each other, one moment nodding their heads in agreement, the next humping out of their chairs.

"Go across the street and find that contract they emailed you a while back, and I'll make the call," Jess said Marcus.

Jake picked up the Tribune, flipped to the page with the latest poll numbers and was first surprised, and then disgusted to see his numbers had inched up. Political analysts were quoted as saying it was the 'mourning' factor. The public knew Filip had been like a father to Jake, and he had now their sympathy. Score a few votes for him because he'd lost somebody he loved. It didn't make sense to him.

He threw the paper down and made a real effort to try and understand. People wanted to get to know him, both his mother and Filip had said. He breathed hard, trying to get it. Maybe it wasn't a 'mourning factor.' Maybe that was giving too many people too little credit. Maybe they understood how close he'd been to Filip, and they identified with his grief.

He got up, walked to the window, and gazed outside. The steps in front of Chicago Youth Works were empty. It was too cold for any of the kids to be outside.

People wanted to get to know him. When they'd seen him jumping from one date to the next, they'd thought him shallow. When they thought he was with smart, spirited Kayla, they felt there was more substance to him, and they felt a connection.

It dawned on him that, even though he still thought the public should pay more attention to his ideas than to his personal life, on a certain level they were right. Hadn't Jess told him time and time again that most people couldn't relate to him the distant serial dater?

They did, however, relate to the type of man who could fall for a hard-working, talented, kind, and outspoken woman, and they could relate to a man who could forge a deep, meaningful friendship with a wise and generous man.

And wasn't that who he really was? The guy who had fallen hard for Kayla and the guy who'd loved Filip like a father?

"Hey Jake, this says—" Marcus pointed at the contract and began to speak, but Jake put his hand up and interrupted him.

"Wait a second, I think I'm having one of those epiphanies people talk about," he said. Marcus put his hands up and laughed.

Jake sat down on the window sill. So all along, the people of Chicago had been trying to tell him to open up, and they'd responded each time he had. It was all too confusing. Leading, apparently, was about more than having a great plan.

Jess walked in then, her eyes bright, and Jake finally smiled because Jess was back, just as Filip would want her to be. "They're beyond excited to have you on, Jake, and they're even moving things around because they want you on today! New Year's Eve is their highest rated show of the year because they give a bunch of stuff away to viewers. They think having you on as a guest on the last day of the year will be icing on the cake because, you know, they've been teasing you to come on for months. But they need to know right now, they need to add you to the promos now. What's it going to be?"

"Today? On New Year's Eve? I don't know." Jake panicked, raked a hand through his hair, and turned to Marcus. "What does their contract say? I mean, if I agree to go on, can they literally skewer me on live television?"

Jess rolled her eyes at him, but Jake shook his head at her. "No, listen, I wouldn't put it past them to host a Jake-on-a-stick barbeque, where everyone takes turns asking personal questions and then roasting me if I can't let go and answer." Jake was serious. His fear of those women was real. Especially the hippie. He thought he'd have more time to prepare for battle. The elections weren't until the last Tuesday in February. He could go on in a few weeks.

"The contract won't change whether you put this off or not," Marcus said, reading his thoughts. "It says you can choose one topic to be off-limits, but everything other than that will be fair game. Don't overthink it. Tell us what you don't want to talk about, show up, and let go."

"Do it, do it, do it, do it!" The kids in the room began chanting, louder and louder.

"Traitors," he jokingly threw at the boys who had been disgusted with him moments before. He took in a deep breath and let it out. "Tell them I'll be there." Everyone cheered.

"What topic will be off-limits?" Jess asked.

He nearly panicked again. So many came to mind. His relationship with his dad, because it had been so bad. His relationship with Filip, because the idea that it could ultimately help him politically repelled him and was simply gross. And Kayla, because he didn't want her dragged into anything again, and because he wouldn't know what to say.

Finally, he said, "Filip. Filip is off-limits." He'd find a way around the others.

* * *

Kayla got off early the afternoon of New Year's Eve. She went straight home and began throwing things out of her overflowing carrying bag until she finally came upon the thin, popular local tabloid she'd bought on impulse.

Everyone had been talking about it, and she'd tried to ignore it... but snapped it up the moment she spotted it on a newsstand during her lunch break. Then she regretted it, but instead of tossing it, she stuffed it as deep down into her bag as possible. Much like the pit of her belly, it was now a crumpled mess.

She took a quick breath and flipped to page twelve. "After I caught them, a sobbing Candace confessed that Jake swept a leather-bound copy of Persuasion by Jane Austen off the mahogany desk before persuading her the desk was a good place to start," read the silly caption below the picture of an attractive couple, dramatically torn in half.

Kayla had read that very book her first day there, when she had been trying to stay away from him. And it had been on the desk.

She sighed and tossed the paper into the trash, not knowing what to think. Her mother and sister were at her Aunt Gina's house, preparing for her annual New Year's Eve bash, but they weren't expecting her until after four. She climbed the stairs to crawl into bed, be miserable and confused, and pretend it was a much-needed rest.

* * *

Late that afternoon, Jake looked around the tiny room that was supposed to be the green room except it was all pink. It had to be some sort of a psychological thing because he'd heard two of the women hated the color.

Fluffy, fuzzy, bedazzled deep pink pillows, light pink leather love seats that faced one another, and candy-cane striped pink and white wallpaper all leaped out at him. Jake and Marcus hesitated before sitting down and then fidgeted when they finally did. Jess laughed.

Then Jake caught sight of a long, fuchsia spear in one corner of the room, the silver blade at the end shaped like a star.

"The skewer," Jake whispered to Marcus, nodding toward it.

"Ouch," Marcus whispered back.

"Would you guys please relax? I mean look at you two! You'd think this was death row."

"Death by a pink skewer." Jake fidgeted some more.

"It's a spear. I'm sure it purely decorative." Jess smiled uncertainly, eyeing the long spear. "Come on guys, don't you think this a fun room?"

"It's a room that messes with your head."

"Do you think they're watching us?" Marcus looked around the room one more time, his eyes darting from one corner to the next.

"No. It's six o'clock. They're out there greeting the audience, and you're on in about five minutes," Jess said, looking at her watch.

"Why don't they have a TV in here? Why can't he listen to what they're saying?" Marcus asked, his paranoia mounting along with Jake's.

Before Jess could give another one of her calm, rational answers, the door opened, and a man with a clipboard motioned to Jake. "Mr. Kelly, you're on in five. We need you at the right side of the stage, right through here. When you hear Samantha welcome you, you walk on and smile and wave to the audience. You'll be sitting next to Tess."

The Hippie.

"I'd like to stay out there on the wings," Marcus informed the assistant and managed to sound like he wouldn't take no for an answer.

"Sure, one person is allowed offstage." The man turned to Jess. "You can watch it here. The remote control is in the right drawer," he said, pointing to an ivory coffee table engraved with flowers. "And the TV is behind those doors," he nodded toward a large, matching chest that took up most of a side wall.

The man motioned for Jake and Marcus to follow him and was about to shut the door when Jess pried it open. "Don't hold back too much, Jake, okay? You're a likable guy when you let go. So let go. You owe it to everyone who's worked their butts off for you to be yourself out there and show Chicago why we support you."

Jake looked at Jess for a long moment before nodding in agreement. The assistant more forcefully shut the door, and he and Marcus hustled as much as two people feeling like they were walking the dead man's walk could.

Jake stood off stage and watched as the women of She Said, She Said discussed horoscopes, of all things. Samantha lived her life by them, Gretel would sue every astrologist for fraud if she could, and Tess thought there may just be something to be learned from the stars above.

Jake looked out into the audience and wasn't exactly shocked to see something like ten women for every man. So many women... women who had made the show number one in its time slot because Samantha, Gretel, and Tess got them. Because they got to the bottom of things. They got to know people. And today, they wanted to get him. His gut tightened.

The set looked nothing like the 'green' room. The beige, rust-red, and brown color scheme was warm and inviting. He'd even say the set was cozy.

There were two armchairs on one side and a love seat on the other, with an enormous screen behind them. Right now, the screen had a spectacular view of Chicago. Tess was sitting on the love seat, her legs folded underneath her, alone and hugging a cushion, the lonely space beside her reserved for Jake. They'd sit him down, make him feel all warm and comfortable, the five cameras he'd counted would zoom in on him, using different angles, and then...

"Ladies, ladies, more ladies, and gentlemen, we've been inviting our next, highly anticipated guest on our show for months—" Samantha began in her sweet, sing-song voice before she was interrupted by Gretel, who drawled, "More like we've been begging him to come on."

"Right." Samantha laughed, while Tess stared straight into Jake's eyes. He squared his shoulders and jutted his chin out. Tess smiled, winsomely. Jake swallowed hard. "We've been begging a certain enigmatic, inscrutable mayoral candidate on for months, and today, the final day of the year, he's finally agreed to sit down and talk to us. Everyone, please welcome Jake Kelly!"

Jake took a deep, calming breath, walked on set, mechanically smiled, and waved to the audience. When a few women whistled, and a rose and a pair of red panties were thrown at him, Jake couldn't help it. It was funny. His smile widened. When he turned away, he caught Tess grinning and pointing two fingers from her eyes to his. His smile tightened.

* * *

Attempts to catch up on sleep failed miserably, and Kayla switched plans. She'd mope, eat flan, watch TV, and eat more flan. She snuggled on the old living room sofa with the entire plate of dessert, began to channel surf, and froze.

Jake. Off-stage. On She Said, She Said.

Her heart raced. This would be his chance to set the record straight about his playboy image and deny it, or to own up to it and convince the public that his personal life didn't matter. Finally, he was getting off that high horse of his and reaching out, actually doing something other than touting his grand plan.

Would it be enough? She wished she didn't care as deeply as she did, but her racing heart had climbed up her throat. Applause filled the air, and Kayla watched as Jake walked on stage with a practiced smile on his lips. He gave a stiff wave, and a few items were thrown at him. A camera zoomed in on some string that barely resembled panties, and then another camera caught Jake's reaction. He smiled his spontaneous smile, the one that didn't hold back, and his eyes twinkled at the camera.

She stared, transfixed, at the screen. Not believing in Jake felt safe. Believing in him was the risk. So she'd grabbed onto excuses not to believe. Right now, he was being brave. And she was a coward.

They went to commercial, and Kayla hurried into the kitchen, snatched the newspaper from the trash, and held her breath. The words "Candace told me he was very smooth. He led her on, making her feel special," were in large print, under two more pictures of the beautiful woman and her husband. They filled her with dread, but she pushed on and read the article in its entirety, stopping only when she read that when the husband caught Jake and Candace in bed in the master bedroom, Jake ran into the master bathroom and locked the door. She read that twice. Craig Stiles went on to say that Candace grabbed a blanket to cover herself and then ran past her husband to get her clothes, which he’d seen downstairs in the library when he’d come in to look for them, while Craig went to pound on the master bathroom door. Kayla threw the paper down.

The husband, Craig Stiles, had messed up. There was no master bathroom because there was no master bedroom in the house. Jake would’ve had to run past Craig to get to a bathroom, which wouldn’t match anything the man was saying happened. And he couldn’t be mistaking a closet door in the room for a bathroom door because all the closet doors were sliding doors. Jake must've not bothered to read the article, or he would've caught that, and his staff had never been to his house, so they had no way of knowing.

But Jake had tried to reach out to her, to explain, and she'd shut him out because it had felt safer. Now she had information that could help him regain credibility among those who needed to believe he wasn't some skirt-chasing playboy. What could she do?

Maybe she could call Jess or Marcus with the information, and they could have Jake mention it during his appearance. But Jake was already on stage.

The show came on again, and Kayla ran out of the kitchen. Jake was greeting each lady with a handshake, but they each pulled him down for a peck on the cheek. He sat. Gretel spoke, Samantha smiled, and Tess continued to study him. Kayla hugged her pillow.

What if they brought up the decorator’s husband’s story, and he didn't handle it well? What could she do?

And then it hit her. Peter the Blogger! Tess was his mom! He would know what to do.

Peter answered on the first ring, and she rushed into speech, tripping over her words, but explaining the gist of it.

Peter hesitated. "Kayla, are you sure you want to be news again?"

"No," she immediately answered. "I never was, and I'm not now. But this story is getting Jake into trouble, and I know for a fact that it’s false. How can I possibly stay quiet? Being an anonymous source again won't cut it this time. It's too convenient, and won't ring true."

"But no one will believe the 'just friends' story from you this time. Not after the pictures of you two dancing and staring into each other's eyes, and not after the heated arguments. Jake might still come off as a playboy for spending the weekend with you."

"But the decorator’s husband is making him look like a massively insensitive jerk, user, and coward, while I can tell people that he's been a great friend and collaborator, and that I believe in him. They know I've called him out when I’ve needed to—they won't think he hurt me or led me on or used me if I'm putting myself out there for him."

Silence again, and Kayla's stomach tied itself into a new knot when she saw the commercial break was over. "I think you're right," he finally said. "Let's see what I can do."

* * *

Jake sat back and tried to look relaxed while Gretel addressed the expectant audience. "As we've been explaining to our studio audience, Mr. Kelly has agreed to our no-holds-barred interview." Gretel rubbed her hands together, and the audience laughed.

Tess nodded. "We love to have fun on our show, but there are subjects we take seriously. Candidates for every seat imaginable in the great state of Illinois have left our show either hating us, loving us, or hating us before they loved us, because we take their roles as leaders seriously, and we put them on the hot seat. We work hard to get to the truth, and as our viewers know, we've helped the city and state avoid some real phonies."

Jake felt stiff as a board. He wanted it to be over with. The hot seat sounded bad, but the truth sounded great. He'd take the heat if people would learn the truth about him, but he wanted to be on the other side already.

"We asked you, the viewers," Gretel pointed to a camera, "To email, instant message, or tweet any and all questions you have for Jake Kelly. He's on trial, so to speak, and you're the jury. And let me tell you... Even though this was a last minute booking, we've been inundated!"

"Curiously enough," Samantha continued, her eyes wide and not at all innocent, "Many questions are of a personal nature."

Jake tried not to squirm in his seat, but he could feel his smile slipping. Personal wasn't his thing. Why had he agreed to do this again? His head was screaming.

"Look at him, he's squirming." Samantha clapped her hands together, clearly delighted. The audience laughed.

"I'm not squirming. I'm looking forward to your questions." He tried to smile again, but he couldn't make the corners of his mouth go up. More laughter.

"Jake, honey, calm down! Relax. Let your guard down," Tess coached. "If you are who you say you are, you have nothing to fear."

Jake breathed in and out, realizing that the only way to get the whole thing over with was to get the whole thing over with. "Let's do this. Fire away." He faced his execution squad.

"Okay, you heard him. Fire away!" Gretel's eyes gleamed. "What exactly, and in full detail, is your real relationship with heiress Julia Hamilton?" She gestured at the giant screen behind them, and Jake saw pictures of him and Julia attending different events throughout the years.

"Julia Hamilton is an old friend," Jake explained and smiled fondly at the pictures.

"In full detail," a member of the audience shouted out. Samantha laughed. "Right, in full detail."

Jake turned away from the screen and cleared his throat. "Details," he said, clearing his throat again. Everyone was looking at him. He didn't have all day.

"This is live television, Jake, and the cameras are all zeroing in on you. People at home are going to think their screen has frozen," Gretel teased.

Tell the truth, and you'll be fine, they'd said. Well, he'd give it a shot. "Julia is one of the sweetest people I know, and I love and value her as a friend, or a sister, even. We've been in each other's lives for forever, it seems, and we have each other's backs. But there's never been anything even remotely romantic between us," he answered truthfully, thinking maybe this whole thing wouldn't be too bad.

"How does it make you feel when gossip columnists say she's waiting on the sidelines for you?" Tess asked.

Truthfully, it made him feel like pounding the columnists, but he couldn't say that. He looked up. "Guilty."

"Guilty?" Samantha repeated.

He nodded. "When Julia's name is dragged into this, it makes me feel guilty. She's a very private person, and she didn't sign up to be heralded as this, I don't know, a martyr for me, when that's not who she is at all," he said, more forcefully than he'd intended. "To be honest, when you first asked me how I felt about it, the first thing that came to mind was what I'd like to do to those who make up lies about people I love."

"Finally, some fire from you!" Samantha whoohoo'd. The audience echoed her, and Jake shook his head and smiled. When he met Tess's eyes, he saw she'd gotten what she'd wanted from him.

"Moving on!" Samantha took control again. "You were also linked to Kayla Diaz, and that was quite a story," she began. "There were pictures of you two dancing together, and many people thought there was chemistry there, but you later said you didn't even remember her." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the pictures of him and Kayla dancing on the screen, but he couldn't look at them full on. All he'd been able to think about at night when he was alone with his thoughts, was how much he needed to hold her again. To be with her. Looking at the pictures hurt, even with everything going on at the moment. "When you met again, the two of you argued publicly, and we all felt the heat. You hired her despite your differences, and we commended you for it. When the rumors of an attraction between the two of you wouldn't let up, Kayla Diaz forcefully denied any type of connection with you, other than a dance lesson and work, on camera. Now a viewer at home wants us to give you the same chance. So go ahead. Repeat your denials, on camera, Jake."

A few shouts that he better tread lightly rang out. Jake swore in his head because they were right. Kayla could be watching. He had known they'd ask about her, and he'd thought hard about his response, but he hadn't anticipated being asked about her quite like this. It was one answer he couldn't afford to mess up. He could handle losing the race, but he couldn't handle hurting Kayla, in any way.

"Kayla Diaz and I have a lot of shared interests, and we're both passionate about many of them, but have different approaches to finding solutions. We argued over those differences, but we also listened to each other—because we cared more about coming up with good ideas than about being right. But she didn't sign up to become fodder for our local tabloids. It wasn't fair to her. She signed up to make a difference, and she did. We proved that compromise is not only possible, but that it helps us grow."

"And that's your forceful, on-camera denial?" Gretel asked in a dry tone. "'Cause I like what I heard, but it sure wasn't a denial."

People chuckled, and Jake desperately wished he could wipe his hands on his trousers. He couldn't say he felt nothing for her because that was a huge lie, and Kayla might believe it, and he couldn't say what he felt, because it would embarrass her. None of this was fair to her. "Look, Kayla and I were becoming friends, but rumors kept getting in the way, making things awkward when they could've been really great. Every denial we were forced to issue drove us further apart because it would make us focus on what wasn't there instead of on what was. My friendship with Julia was cemented, and rumors hurt but won’t get in the way. But my friendship with Kayla was new. I haven't spoken to her in a while, but the last thing I want is to have her out there watching and listening to me focus one more time on denials, on Chicago's highest rated local show, instead of focusing on her amazing ideas for an expanded music program, and my gratitude and admiration."

There was silence, and Jake didn't know what to make of it. It looked like they didn't know what to make of his answer, either. Samantha spoke first, and she looked thoughtful. "Well, I, for one am sorry that rumors got in the way of something that could've been great."

Murmurs from the audience showed they agreed.

Gretel nodded. "And in a way, this ties into our next viewer-submitted question, because you're right. Julia and Kayla didn't sign up for this. But you did. The public already knows what you want to do if you are elected, but this viewer wants to know why, exactly, you decided to run for mayor."

The screen now showed pictures of the Chicago Youth Works centers he had founded and his redevelopment efforts, but headlines about him being another wealthy man on a power-trip—complete with requisite foundation—flashed through his mind. The last person to ask him this question instead of guessing at his motive was Kayla. Jake folded his hands between his legs and wondered if he was letting his anxiety show. "I want to be mayor because..." he paused because only canned words seemed to come to mind. He sighed and decided to do what he had done with Kayla. Open up. "I know this might not make sense, but Chicago helped raise the best part of who I am. I loved getting lost in it when I was young. Both the grit and glitter are a part of me. Yes, I was born wealthy, and I can't help that, but I spend my time in places here that, frankly, most people avoid. I love neighborhoods that many have given up on. I love the people and the history and the potential. And I'm not saying this to make anyone feel guilty or to make me look like some do-gooder. Everyone has their own lives to worry about. I'm saying it because I wish everyone knew how much I want to take it all on. All of it. From the Gold Coast to the South Side, there are problems and opportunities, and they are more interwoven than people think. I just want the chance to take them on. And I know everyone's tired of me saying it, but I have detailed plans. It's not wishful thinking. I also know not every plan will work, and I know I'll take the heat when they don't, but I'm prepared to do so." Jake sat on the edge of his seat, looking out at the audience, with the sinking feeling that he'd bared his guts to people who thought he was making a campaign speech.

"Look at that, people, Jake Kelly is not a robot," Gretel said, but she was serious, and he thought she was looking at him with new eyes. Then an audience member began to sing the lyrics to Foreigner's "Hot-Blooded," and people started to clap or sing along, and even Jake laughed. Something flew in the air and hit the stage again. Samantha picked it up with a pencil and twirled it a few times. It was a bra.

"He's sexy when he's all worked up!" Someone shouted from the back of the studio. "Hear that, Jake? You're sexy when you're all worked up," Samantha teased.

"I am not all worked up." Jake smiled and sat back again.

"We're on to you, Jake. We're going to a commercial break now, but when we come back, we've got a few questions guaranteed to let us know just how hot-blooded Jake can get." Tess turned to camera one and, to Jake's mind, promised viewers to barbecue him. Live. He should've known they'd throw the softballs first, to make him let his guard down.

He muttered under his breath, but Tess, who had to have super-hearing, caught it and laughed. As the music played before they transitioned to the break, she hollered, "Hear that? Jake feels we're messin' with his mind!"

* * *

Kayla stared unseeingly at the commercials playing on the TV. She'd nearly dropped her phone when they mentioned her. But he'd answered the question about her beautifully. Things between them could've been great.

"Hello... Kayla Diaz? Are you still there? Please still be there."

"Yes," she said softly. She'd called. She'd said her name. What if she was making a huge mistake?

"I'm sorry to make you wait, but I had to call Peter and confirm you really are who you say you are, and that he'd given you this number."

"It's okay, I understand."

"Yes. But I need you to stay on the line, okay? Stay on the line! I need to reach Tess!"

Kayla wasn't sure she would. It didn’t seem like Jake needed her and she didn’t want to make things worse.

* * *

Jake watched as Tess quickly sat down again after the commercial. She'd been called away and had left looking a little annoyed about it, but she came back with a new spring to her step and a nearly blinding gleam in her eye. "The squadron of questions awaits! This time, live from our audience. Who wants to fire first?" Tess asked. A slew of hands went up. It took all of Jake's willpower not to wipe his brow. He glanced at Marcus. He looked constipated.

An older woman from the audience stood up. "I don't care about politicians' personal lives, and I think campaigns should be about ideas," she began, and Jake straightened. She was off to a good start. "But I do care when I hear a person has been grossly taken advantage of by a candidate. To request a quote from a family business, and to then sleep with the wife under the husband’s nose, is vile. You say Craig Stiles is lying, but he's compelling. What's your side of the story?"

"And remember, Jake. We want details," Gretel said.

Jake cleared his throat, but he found himself feeling about as nervous as he'd ever felt. A picture of Craig Stiles was behind him, and even he thought the man looked vulnerable and believable.

This was his chance. The one he'd come onto the show for. He'd practiced his answer. But the word vile had made his stomach curl. It hurt, and it brought the old exasperation back. He wanted to be believed because he was telling the truth, but all he could do was be firm in his denial. "I didn’t request a quote from Craig Stiles, who renovates houses, because I didn’t need a renovator. I’m doing the work myself. I requested ideas from Candace Stiles, who handled the interior decorating side of their business. She gave me her ideas, and I paid her for her time. But her vision, which included extensive work by Craig, didn’t match mine, and we parted ways amicably. I don't think she spent more than twenty minutes in the house—"

"Twenty minutes is plenty of time!" someone from the audience shouted.

Jake tensed. "Nothing happened. And the first time I saw Craig Stiles was in that newspaper article. He’s lying about everything. I don’t know why, but he’s lying."

Samantha nodded. "And that’s the crux of the matter, isn't it? We've heard your side, and we've heard his side. But she’s remained quiet so far, which is damning to you. Most people think she’d want to clear her name if her husband was lying. It's up to voters to decide who they believe, and if polls are to be believed, it's not looking good for you."

"I believe Craig!" someone shouted. And Jake shut down.

"And I believe Jake!" another person shot back. The audience laughed again. He couldn't believe he still had something like fifteen minutes to go.

"It's a case of he said, he said, if you will," Gretel quipped.

"Next question!" Samantha shouted.

Jake looked out at the audience unseeingly, knowing nothing else mattered now. The scandal was the one thing that was dragging him down the most, and he'd convinced no one of his innocence.

Hands went up, and a young man was chosen. "I'd like to know about the female friend you took up to your house in Kankakee, only because you say she's just a friend, but my family would kill me if I dumped them on Thanksgiving for some who's just a friend. I wouldn't risk it unless I cared deeply for the person."

Jake didn't care that he'd signed the contract. They could ask all they wanted. He wouldn't go there. "I'm sorry, but I won't discuss her. She needs and deserves her privacy. I'll only say my mom was visiting my aunt in the west coast, or she would've been there, too. And my friend's family was also out of town, so she wasn't abandoning anyone, either."

"We agree she deserves to have her privacy, and we're not asking for names. But you both said you were only friends..." Samantha began, and the three women were suddenly very serious. "And yet last night, we got this from a source who hired a professional photographer to digitally enhance the images." She gestured to the screen behind her, and Jake felt the blood drain from his face. It was the pictures of him carrying Kayla into the house. Her back was to the camera, and her face was hidden by him in each one, but in the digitally enhanced version, it was clear he was either kissing the woman or giving her mouth to mouth.

At that moment, he hated them. They had set him up. No wonder they'd been so eager to have him on. "I'm guessing you hate us right now," Tess said.

He watched as Marcus sunk into a chair with a horrified and defeated expression on his face. And Jake stopped caring about what everyone who didn't know him thought. He looked her in the eye and said, "I feel like I was set up."

"We told you in the beginning. We don't hold back over the things that matter, and candidates either hate us, love us, or hate us before loving us. And you may just end up loving us."

Gretel was at the edge of her seat. "You're a single man, Jake Kelly, and in my opinion, perfectly within your rights to pursue as many partners as you'd like, provided you're honest with them. People like me, who decide races, aren't comfortable with someone who manipulates and deceives to get his way. This is why all of this matters. Craig Stiles' story, if true, matters. And it's your word against his. So we look at circumstantial evidence."

Samantha nodded. "Three women have been pictured at this house. You said you were only showing it to Julia Hamilton, an old friend you've been romantically linked to—a link you've both denied. It's possible. We could believe that." She nodded at the audience, a few nodded back, and Gretel picked up the thread.

"The house is under your mom's name, which could mean you didn't want it discovered in a property records search, but you say it's because you originally bought it for her. Okay. That's also possible." Gretel shrugged, and Samantha nodded and continued.

"A friend was feeling low, so you went away with her on Thanksgiving weekend. You were seen carrying her, under the rain—which looked romantic to me—because she was dizzy. And she confirmed it all anonymously. But now we see these digitally enhanced pictures, and they show you were both lying. It makes us wonder if Julia is lying for you, too. And it makes Craig’s claims more believable. It makes him look like the only one willing to stand up to your lies."

Jake closed his eyes. He should get up and leave. He wanted to stand up and leave. But it wasn't fair to Julia, who now looked like a liar, and to everyone who had worked hard for him. He went back over every statement he'd put out. Feeling defeated, he opened his eyes, and looked at Samantha, because she was the last one who'd spoken. "If you look back at my statements about Julia and the interior decorator, I deny a romantic relationship with both, and Julia denies the same thing. But if you look back at my statement about the woman in that picture," he said, looking at it and feeling his breath catch, because it felt as if the world was sullying one of the best moments of his life, "I don't deny a romantic relationship," he breathed the words out. "I said she's a friend who'd gone through a difficult situation, that she needed to get away and I invited her, and that I carried her inside because she said she was dizzy." And then, feeling like a dick, and knowing that's what he would sound like, he said, "She did actually say she was dizzy. And I know it's mincing words, and that both our statements omitted information, but we have a right to keep our personal lives to ourselves. My entire life does not have to be out there, and none of her life deserves to be out there."

"True," Gretel agreed. "But this is about your believability. And frankly, Jake, you saying that the woman you're seen kissing had just been through something difficult, makes you look like you took advantage of her vulnerability."

Jake went cold. It was going from worse to worst. Especially because he agreed with Gretel. Anyone who came off the way he was coming off didn’t deserve the public’s trust. And as he sat there, feeling alone and utterly defeated, a comforting scent that immediately made him think of Filip surrounded him. A split-second later he realized what the smell was. He took a whiff. It was Bengay... with a hint of Vicks VapoRub. He remembered Filip's words, about how he could reach Jake when he was gone. But it couldn't be. It was crazy. "Which—which one of you is using Bengay and Vicks?" Jake sat up straight and stared at them. They all stared back as if he'd gone mad.

A few people laughed uncertainly, because the atmosphere was still tense, and Gretel gave him a cutting look. "Now that is one lame distraction. Surely a politician can come up with something better than that."

Samantha looked into Jake's eyes and apparently saw something there because, much to the audience's amusement, she got up to smell both Tess and Gretel and sniff around the scant stage furnishings before settling down again and saying. "Absolutely nothing smells like Vicks and Bengay, Jake," she said.

"Getting back to the subject," Tess stressed. "None of this looks good for you, does it? But we told you that if you spoke the truth, you'd be fine. So speak it. We don't need names, but don't hold back."

As crazy as it seemed, Jake knew Filip was trying to reach him. He thought about Filip's last words to him, that when it came down to it, the truth always set good people free. He blew out a breath. "I omitted truths from the public because I needed to protect the woman in the picture. Our relationship was between her and me. I've also omitted truths to the woman in the picture, but never to deceive her, or to take advantage of her... but because I was afraid. And that's all I can say here. I will tell the whole truth about that weekend, but I will only say it to her." He took another quick breath and let it out. "I've told the truth about Julia and the decorator. I've omitted nothing there. I don't have proof, but I do have the truth on my side, and it'll be enough for me that the people I love know it. There's nothing else I can say."

"Maybe there isn't," Tess said. "But maybe there’s proof that you’re telling the truth after all."

Gretel and Samantha both spoke at once, telling Tess that she shouldn't be keeping them in the dark, and the audience grew restless. Jake didn't know what to think anymore. Tess held up her hand. "Kayla Diaz called my private line a little while ago. We've confirmed it's her, and she has something she'd like to share with the people of Chicago," she explained. “Candace Stiles called, too. It turns out she’s been staying with her mom in Hawaii, to get over the breakup of her marriage, and she didn’t know about the controversy surrounding her. Both want to speak the truth, but Candace’s phone lost signal. I want to let her speak for herself, so I will wait for her to call back. Meanwhile, here’s Kayla.”

Jake froze. Things had spun completely out of control. Kayla had called? And Candace? Would Candace tell the truth? And what in the world would Kayla say?

"Hello?" he heard Kayla's voice on the line. He swallowed hard.

"Hello, Kayla. You told me there was something you needed to share with our viewers?" Tess prompted her.

A sigh came over the line, and Jake felt powerless because he couldn't protect her. What was she doing? Kayla cleared her throat. "Just that Jake hasn't lied to you. Julia Hamilton and I are friends, and I know for a fact that she has no romantic feelings for him. She'd, well, actually like him to find someone."

A smattering of "So would we!" from the audience quieted Kayla, who laughed softly. It helped Jake see some people still believed in him, and he managed to smile a little. "And I'm also calling in about Craig Stiles’ story." There was an edge to her voice, and Jake realized he was gripping the love seat's armrest so tightly, his knuckles were white. "He said he caught them in the master bedroom, and that Jake ran into the master bedroom... but there's no master suite in that house. Craig Stiles also could not have confused a closet door with a bathroom door because the closet doors are all sliding doors. And a renovator especially wouldn't make these mistake, don't you think? It lends support to Jake's story that Candace never made it upstairs. Her husband was right about the book Persuasion being on the desk in the library downstairs, which is something she could’ve told him. I don’t know what his motivation is, but I think he should call in right now, or give some interview where he gives details about that second story, like the layout or bedroom décor, or—or anything!”

Jake could see her now, pacing and gesturing all over the place, letting her emotions run away from her because she knew she was right. He couldn't believe she was doing this for him, and he wished he was with her, so he could hug her close, and tell her all his truths.

"And how do you know there's no master bedrooom or bathroom in that house?" Gretel asked, her eyebrows hitting her hairline. It seemed like the entire audience leaned forward as one.

"I know because... well because I'm the woman he's carrying in the picture. Jake invited me to go up with him because we happened to be in the same place at the same time—on a boat he rented for his staff, so they could look at the fireworks—when I saw something that upset me. It wasn't because there was anything going on between us." Kayla now sounded uncomfortable. "And I also wasn't feeling vulnerable, so please don't say that he took advantage of me. That's awful. It was more that I needed to get away, and I needed to practice. Which I did! When people asked my sister if it was me, she didn't lie. She was away for the weekend, and she knew I'd be practicing. Just know that I know Jake, and I believe in him. He's never done anything remotely manipulative, or deceitful. Well, only when he pretended he didn't recognize me after Summer Dance." She laughed a little. "But he apologized and explained why, and it wasn't easy for him."

"You two are obviously kissing in the picture—" Gretel began, but she was cut off by Kayla, who now sounded uncomfortable, "Well, but that really is between us, and..."

"Please leave her alone," Jake said. "She said what she called in to say, and it was brave of her, and I'm grateful to her even when I wish she hadn't put herself out there like that. But she's obviously uncomfortable."

"What about you, are you uncomfortable?" Gretel shot back.

"Hell yeah!" Jake splayed his hands out. Everyone but him burst out laughing.

The line above went dead, and he couldn't help wonder what Kayla was thinking now. His heart was no longer in the show, it was with Kayla. She'd called and put herself out there to help him. How was she feeling? Why would she do that for him? And why did it still smell like Vicks and Bengay? He felt like he was finally coming undone.

"You're right, Jake, Kayla put herself out there for you, and in case we don’t get Candace back on the line, she also backs up your story. She’s devastated that her husband would lie like this to get back at her for leaving him," Tess said. "But it was brave of Kayla to call in. Would you be equally brave for her?"

"I'd do anything for her," he said, confused at the question.

Tess gestured to the camera. "Then tell her how you feel!”

Jake looked at Tess. Tess looked at Jake. The whole set went still and quiet. Not even Gretel or Samantha made a sound. He could feel everyone's eyes on him. "Not here. Not into a camera, or over the phone, but in person." He stood up, looked around at the cameras, trying to figure out which one was focused on him. "Kayla, please meet me..." God, how could he tell her where without half of Chicago showing up? He could call her or...

Well, everyone already knew they'd kissed. "Meet me where we shared our first kiss. As soon as you can. I'll be waiting." Jake was about to rip off his microphone, but instead, he looked at the camera again and said, "Please show up. Please."

He took off without a backward glance. Excited hoots and hollers followed him out.