Ben Ryder - Englishmen 3 - Released Page 13

  “It’s a nice morning, let’s sit outside,” Jackie interrupted, as though she hadn’t heard a word I said. She didn’t wait for a response. Instead, she twisted herself around the waiting customers until she was out of the door.

  Something was wrong. Jackie was distracted, and she wasn’t in her usual cheerful mood that I’d come to expect. As we stepped outside, two people got up from a small table and gathered their things. Jackie hovered over them to be sure we could take their place before anyone else could.

  “What did I miss last night?” she asked as she sat down. She eyed the people around us to be sure no one was eavesdropping. She was acting a little cloak and dagger, which made me a bit nervous.

  “What do you mean?” I asked taking the seat opposite. “I take it you haven’t seen this morning’s edition?” she said, unfolding a copy of the New York Daily Ledger onto the table between us. She spun it around so the headline was facing up at me. “Alex has well and truly gone off the deep end.”

  I looked down at the front page and saw a photo of a Howard Johannson, with a particularly smug smile on his

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  face, covering most of the page. Above the image, in large bold type, the headline read: The Hypocrisy of Johannson. “What’s this about? I thought the contact giving Alex the evidence he was bribing the senator backed out,” I said as I flipped to the second page. I assumed the short paragraphs below the photo on the front page wouldn’t tell me anything I didn’t already know. As I turned the page, I was stunned into silence as I saw another photo.

  It was a professional portrait of Howard Johannson posing in a suit, in a grand office, sitting behind a large mahogany desk that made him look rather small. A younger, larger man stood behind him, also in a suit, his left hand resting on the old man’s shoulder. His silver hair looked immaculate. I read the caption beneath the image.

  “Howard Johannson and son, Reed Johannson.” Only one word escaped my mouth. “No.”

  I quickly flipped back to the front page to read the

  article from the beginning. “Howard Johannson, billionaire business mogul, found himself once again the center of attention last night at New York’s Madison Square Garden, where he took to the stage of a special event and was formally announced as the new owner of the New York Warriors hockey team.

  Just moments before the announcement, Noah Lukas, the star right winger of the Warriors, made history as the first professional hockey player to publicly come out as a gay man. The revelation was unexpected, but left many fans, sponsors, and teammates cheering his many fans, sponsors, and teammates cheering his year-old Canadian, who has played for the Warriors for

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  the past three years. Lukas often has been hailed as the team’s savior, as a streak of wins followed his arrival.

  Rather than congratulate Lukas on his accomplishments and role in the team’s achievements, or wishing him well in his retirement, Mr. Johannson took the opportunity to publicly humiliate Lukas on a national stage. The crowd gathered for the announcement was stunned by antigay and homophobic slurs directed at the player. Mr. Johannson took to the stage to welcome newcomer Sergei Baskrov, who will replace Lukas on the team. But Johannson added that he was, “happy to have a real man join the team.”

  Then, to add insult to injury, Mr. Johannson addressed the fans’ negative reaction to his comment, shouting angrily, “That’s what you want? A f**got on the team?”

  It is too early to say what damage has been caused to the Warriors franchise and reputation from the comments, but opinions voiced on social networking sites so far have been damning of Mr. Johannson. Many fans have publicly questioned whether they will continue to support the team.

  This isn’t the first time that Mr. Johannson has come under fire for making antigay slurs. In fact, he has never been shy of broadcasting his negative opinions of the LGBT community.

  In 2009, a year in which Mr. Johannson faced various investigations and allegations of unethical and shady business deals, he wrote an op-ed piece in the New York Times to counter pro-marriage equality advocates who were campaigning for an impending vote to legalize same-sex marriage in the state. His words clearly were directed at the city’s large Catholic community and right-wing leaders.

  Two months after Mr. Johannson’s article was published and the vote to overturn the ban on same-sex

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  marriage was unsuccessful, he once again took the opportunity to voice his opinion at the pulpit of the Church of St. Michael in New York. In front of a full congregation of city leaders, he condemned the LGBT community and spoke of the sanctity of traditional marriage.

  Soon after, however, Mr. Johannson was caught in the midst of a scandal involving his own marriage. A number of women came forward alleging illicit sexual relationships with the tycoon. Though the accusations seemed to disappear soon after the scandal surfaced, many have alleged that the public humiliation of her husband’s numerous infidelities led his wife of forty years, Cassy Johannson, to commit suicide. Her death was deemed an accidental overdose by the county coroner.

  But Mr. Johannson’s comments last night are even more striking in light of the previously undisclosed fact that his son, the sole heir to the Johannson fortune, is a homosexual. Sources confirm that Reed Johansson has been involved in a sexual relationship with a man, though, until now, it has never been acknowledged publicly.”

  My body began to boil from the inside out. I scanned the article again, searching for my name. I was nauseated at the idea of the attention it could bring my way. I was inundated with visions of the press camped outside my apartment. Lenses and flash bulbs in my face. Reporters bombarding me for salacious details. Tabloid hacks rummaging through dumpsters behind my building to dig up scandal. And Richard, sitting back in his chair at work, chuckling at my humiliation.

  148I may as well have been standing in front of the entire

  school again. The nausea slowly subsided after I double-checked the article to ensure there was no mention of my name.

  I dropped the paper on the table and leaned back in a combination of relief, exhaustion, and fear of what was to come.

  Jackie was staring at the headline. “What was he thinking? I hope he has some sound proof, or else all of our jobs will be gone by the end of the week,” she said. She pulled a cigarette from her handbag and lit it. It was the first time I’d ever seen her smoke. “All hell is going to rain down on us now.”

  “You think he’ll sue?”

  “Of course he’ll bloody sue! Alex has just told the world Johannson’s wife committed suicide, he’s had extramarital affairs, he’s had shady business dealings, and his son sleeps with men. Thank God there are no bodies to be found, or Alex would have drawn a map!” Jackie took a long drag of her cigarette. “He’d better have his facts straight, or this will be a libel case that lawyers only dream about.”

  “I don’t fucking believe he did this,” I said through gritted teeth. I was seething, my breath became fast and shallow, as though I was about to hyperventilate. I slammed my elbows onto the table and sank my head into my hands.

  Jackie leaned across the table and rubbed the side of my arm in soft comfort. “I’m sorry, my love. I didn’t mean to worry you this way. I’m sure Alex has the evidence to back all this up.”

  149“It’s true, Jackie. I don’t know about the shady business

  deals or the wife’s suicide, but his son is definitely gay,” I said through my hands. “Well, let’s hope so, or else…. Wait, you mean Alex told you who his source is?”

  I leaned back and dragged my palms down my face. “It’s me, Jackie. I’m the source.”

  Jackie shot straight up in her seat with wide eyes. “What do you mean? How do you know?”

  “You remember that night at the hotel? When you saw me in the lobby?”

  “At the Imperial?”

  “Yes.” I flipped the paper to the second page and tapped the photo of the silver-haired man. “I swear I had no idea
who he was, until now.”

  I told Jackie the full story. I wasn’t too sure what to make of her face. She eyed me in an enigmatic way. I couldn’t tell if she believed me. She sat in silence for a moment as my story slowly sank in. When I was finished, she remained quiet, as if still pondering my tale.

  Then, as though a lightbulb had gone off, she said, “You’re right, he was there that night at the hotel. I remember seeing him because he introduced his father on stage to start the auction. I remember thinking how dashing he looked.” Jackie cocked an eyebrow. “Well, as dashing as one can look after being taken roughly in a stairwell.”

  I closed the newspaper and shoved it away in disgust. “This is why I couldn’t get hold of Alex last night. He must have gone straight to the office to get this article in before the midnight deadline.”

  150“I can’t believe Clive gave him the green light. Surely, he

  must have known what the fallout of this would be. It’s already on every news cycle and blog in the country.” I shifted uncomfortably in my chair. “Well, I guess we’re about to find out.”

  We disposed of our empty coffee cups and took the elevator to our floor. I felt shaky, and the surge of caffeine racing through my system wasn’t helping. Thoughts blazed through my head at lightning speed. Fortunately, none of them stopped long enough for me to contemplate their outcomes.

  None of the staff looked at me as we walked through the office and toward our desks. Were they purposefully avoiding a glance in my direction? They all looked busy, but I could see they were just pretending to work. As I watched them, it was clear they had no idea I was even there. Instead, their eyes were trained on the glass office in the corner. Alex sat opposite Clive, who was massaging his temples with both hands.

  Jackie and I walked to our desks. I checked my phone, then my e-mail. Nothing. No explanation, no apology. Not even a warning from Alex. I was filled with anger but also disappointment.

  I sat back in my chair and waited for the inevitable summons to Clive’s office. Everyone in the office would know I was the source the moment he called me in. Apart from Alex, I was the only gay guy in the office. There could be no other explanation for why the Arts & Entertainment writer would be asked to join the meeting.

  Then again, maybe I wasn’t giving Clive enough credit. I was sure he must have protected sources before. Surely he was decent enough not to parade me through the office in

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  front of my coworkers. But I knew, eventually, I was going to have to explain myself to him. I shuddered at the thought of having to describe my sex life to my straight boss. What details would he ask? Would he want full, detailed accounts of every tawdry act? Would he be horrified? Or would he be okay with knowing one of his writers liked to fuck strangers in the woods of Central Park?

  I was possessed by an urge to bolt, to head back to my apartment, turn in the key, and hop the next plane back to London. I could return in a few weeks to pack up my gear and ship it home.

  But that would have meant running away. Again. “They didn’t waste any time,” Jackie said, nodding toward reception.

  A small army of five lawyers swinging briefcases had stormed through the doors. They all but bypassed the receptionist. She looked like she expected them but was flustered by the number. They didn’t stop or ask for directions. Instead, they marched directly to Clive’s office. The receptionist grabbed empty chairs from around the office and wheeled them to Clive’s door. One of the more junior attorneys accepted them without thanks.

  Every eye in the office was trained on the newcomers. There were no kind greetings or exchanges of handshakes, only stoic and curt nods. Two older gentlemen, who I assumed were the lead attorneys, sat directly opposite Alex, who sat together with Clive. They presented a united front. It was clear that one of the lawyers was speaking, but Clive and Alex refused to acknowledge him. They simply sat with their mouths firmly closed.

  152Moments later, everyone outside of Clive’s office turned

  their heads to the entrance. Another five men in smart suits and leather briefcases had walked in. “Finally, the cavalry arrives,” Jackie whispered. “They’re The Ledger’s lawyers. You know, the good guys.”

  As they joined the group in Clive’s office, the receptionist scrambled to find even more chairs. We couldn’t hear what was being said, but it was clear one of our attorneys had instructed Johannson’s most junior lawyer to stand up to make room at the table. This was their turf, and they certainly weren’t going to use their briefcases as makeshift desks for the benefit of a baby lawyer who was probably only there to take notes.

  Everyone at the paper abandoned all pretense of working. We all stared at the exchanges in Clive’s office. It looked tense, but we didn’t know what they were saying. Instead, we heard reporters on the televisions across the wall rerunning the Johannson story over and over again. Every time one of them mentioned the name of the paper, our attention momentarily shifted to the screens, but then returned to Clive’s office.

  Somehow, despite the gravity of the meeting and what seemed to be unwavering focus, Clive had noticed. Every computer in the newsroom pinged at the same time, as we all received an e-mail from Clive that simply read, “Get to work.”

  By 11:00 a.m. my nerves were frayed. I certainly wasn’t going to write about the latest chanteuse on Broadway. Instead, I scoured the web for mentions of the Johannson article. All it did was make me more anxious. Jackie quietly tried to calm me down, but it didn’t work.

  153I had to know what was happening. I started typing an

  e-mail to Alex, hoping he would glance at his phone and respond. Suddenly, I heard Johannson’s name on one of the televisions in a different tone than the ones that had cycled for hours. I stopped and looked over. Howard Johansson was hunched over a bank of microphones. He was making a press statement outside a building.

  “I stand here today, once again the victim of the liberal media. It seems almost common practice these days to attack successful people for daring to have an opinion on society, even if it’s the majority voice. I have been the target of unfounded and outrageous accusations regarding my personal life in the past, and have been subject to unnecessary scrutiny in my business life, simply because the mainstream media is allowed to fabricate whatever fantasies they want. But today a line has been crossed.”

  He paused to adjust the spectacles on his nose, with dramatic effect.

  “The outrageous accusations against me printed by the New York Daily Ledger regarding the death of my beloved wife, Cassy, and the twisted lies about my business transactions are bad enough. But did they stop at that? No. They were not content with tainting the memory of my dear wife. Now they’re attempting to get to me by falsely branding my son a homosexual. My son has done nothing to deserve this deviant title, and steps have been undertaken to silence any further defamation against him.”

  He sneered in derision.

  “I believe this smear campaign is a vile act of revenge for my past opinions of the homosexual lifestyle choice. All I will say is that I am a Christian man. I hold my Christian beliefs

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  strong and dear to me. I will not apologize for those beliefs just because liberal activists call them politically incorrect, or just because they think they can interpret the Holy Bible different from me. I don’t see how they can, it seems pretty clear to me. We live in a Christian nation, where we are free to voice our beliefs, just as God intended. I will not be bullied by these charlatans.”

  He punctuated the last sentence with an outstretched, crooked finger. He ignored the questions shouted from the gathered reporters, turned, and feebly ambled through the doors of a building with a black marble façade.

  The lawyers finally left the office at lunchtime, but we all knew they’d return once they’d fed themselves. Judging by the looks of exhaustion as they filed out, they were going to need plenty of energy for the afternoon’s second round.

  I watched as Alex got up, stretched, a
nd wandered out of Clive’s office. Even though I had a million questions, I wasn’t sure I could hold my temper.

  I remembered I was meant to be meeting Callum that afternoon, so I took out my phone and began to text.

  “Callum, I’m so sorry but all hell has broken loose at work. I won’t be able to meet you this afternoon. Please don’t be mad. I promise I have a good reason. I’ll try and get up to Canada as soon as I can to visit.”

  I saw the three dots spread on the bottom left hand side of the screen that indicated his imminent reply. I felt a huge pang of guilt and prayed he didn’t think of me as a bad friend, especially so soon after we had reconnected. The message came through.

  “We’ve seen the news. We will probably be staying in New York longer than expected. The next few days are going

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  to be busy, but I need to talk to you before we leave. It’s important.”

  “We?” I was surprised when, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Alex walking in my direction. I clenched my jaw. But he didn’t speak. Instead, he walked casually past and dropped a folded sheet of paper on my desk.

  Jackie noticed. I ignored her nonverbal plea for information and opened the note.

  “The Roof.”

  Icy terror washed over me. Had someone seen me with Reed Johannson on the roof of his father’s building? Was there a security camera that we didn’t spot either there or on top of one of the other buildings nearby? Was this the evidence, the proof Alex would produce to back up his story? Was I being thrown to the wolves?