Elizabeth
23 October 2016
Sunday Evening
It's easy to bask in the caressing breeze of the night chill. It's indigo and orange lighting whisking me away into daydreams of my and Abby's weekend together. Through the rearview mirror I can see the black, polished sedans of Abby's motorcade turn right towards Parklands - leaving me to travel the last 20 minutes to my place alone.
My own cars silence wraps itself around my skin as I sit with my feelings. The strange lightheartedness that has invaded my every sense.
By the time I reach the traffic light Abby's become a little more than a speck of red and silver lights. I watch as they fade into the distance and release a content sigh. The gentle lull of the hired car aligning with my breathing.
Me and Abigail are good.
It's an odd feeling being in- or rather allowing myself to be in love. For all the chaos that was my life right now, I can say I am happy. Like an anchor at sea, Abigail's presence grounded me to the now.
A feeling I've promised myself (and her) that I would no longer screw up.
The vibration and clink of my finally rebooted work phone disturbs my day dreaming however. And although I know it's dangerous I skim the phone in my right hand while keeping my eyes on the road.
The animation of the notification panel is slick as I drag it down. I see mostly Twitter updates and ignore them and swipe left to clear.
But the incessant vibrate and clink of my notifications disturb me into a sigh. In the notifications bar there are 3 updates. One is an all uppercase letter CALL ME from Andy Bates; then there's 14 Missed call notifications; and one update is a retweet of what I think is a trending Twitter video.
My thin eyebrows furrow as I click on the blue Twitter icon. It's not my most urgent order of business but I would still like to prolong the peace of my weekend before getting back to work.
I enjoy the lean back noise of the car while idling as I turn into the building parking.
The next notification is a retweet as well but from an account I follow. "States At Horny" the caption reads. I know the account - a CNN parody that updates on breaking news using satire. They're funny - usually.
My eyes focus on the blue triangular play button. It sits at the centre of a photo of me, that's attached to the tweet. It's an old one of me shaking hands with Wheelan, nothing spectacular. Showing us all smiles and shoulders hunched in black peacoats below the Lincoln memorial. It was a picture that had sparked Secretary of State rumours at the time.
With my heart hammering against my ribcage I hover my thumb over the screen anxious about what was on that post.
"Sheriff."
I gasp hard as I recognize the sweet, breathy swell of flirtation that belongs to Abigail Mitchell's voice.
Bringing the car to a halt, not caring who's parking I was in, my heart stops at the words of the next speaker.
"I don't know what I'm doing here."
I know that voice.
I would recognise that voice anywhere in the world because that voice belonged to me.
What was this? When was this? How was this happening!?
"Liz, you don't need a reason to be here."
The next seconds were a mix of shallow breathing, shucking of clothing and kissing.
I know exactly when this was now.
How could I forget the first time I'd allowed myself to be vulnerable, to fully embrace what I felt for Abigail Mitchell. The day I had decided to throw caution to the wind and accept my irrational need to be with her. And the day that she let me.
How had they gotten a hold of this?
"Elizabeth Masey, shut up and fuck me."
My breath hitches along with the start of the female voice over of the reporter.
"And that is the scintillating start to the TWO hour, yes you heard right, two hour audio recording of states attorney Elizabeth Masey's sex tape. Leaked just an hour ago by TMZ. - -We of course cannot play the full audio as it does contain adult content but you can surely still check it out for yourself on the TMZ site and maybe someone will be able to answer the question of - just who is, the mystery woman."
*BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
Like a taser through my veins my heart lurches back to reality from the sound of a car horn. A neighbour asking to be let through.
My motions are reflexive as I park the car in my designated spot. My blood cold as I stare accusing the phone screen of betrayal. My mind blank as I stare through the clear windscreen of my hired car.
Shit.
