Foley sighed. Despite how tantalising Y was, there was no way to say yes without making Roger, Hugh and the whole council look complicit. Walter was no puppet dancing on Gabriella’s string; he was a marlin thrashing on a fishing line. He could swamp the boat and drown them all.
“Are we off the record?”
There was a look between the two lovebirds, no lust, totally professional. “Yes, this affects the paper too,” said Nathan.
“It affects you,” said Nat.
Nat went to sit with Nathan and Foley blinked furiously to crush the memory of Nat’s bare pink butt cheeks wobbling in the air. “Okay,” she said, cautiously. It could only affect her in that it affected council’s general reputation. “Tell me what you already know.”
Another shared look and Nathan said, “Someone at council instructed Walter to lobby against Trick Drummond.”
Foley winced, not at the truth, at the use of Drum’s name.
Nat said, “Was that someone you, Fole?”
“What? You think I instructed Walter to start a protest?”
“It’s what Walter is saying.”
“What!”
“Did you?”
She stood. “Hell, no.” Where was this coming from? This could change things. She’d never had a conversation with Walter and until she had to talk dog parks with him, she didn’t intend to.
“But someone did. If you tell me it was Hugh, I might have to have instant angry sex with Nathan.”
“Baby,” Nathan muttered.
This was lunatic. “It wasn’t Hugh. It wasn’t me.”
“But it did happen and you know who it was.”
She nodded, reluctantly. “Are you running a story?” At least she could warn Hugh, he’d warn Roger, they could have the media team prepare a statement.
Nathan answered. “No, makes the paper look stupid too. We don’t like being played.” Foley’s breath swooshed out of her. “But I’m not happy. I’ve spent years building a relationship with council. If astroturfing is the new game plan, don’t expect us to play ball. Next time there’s a hermit squatter you want protected, we might not be so co-operative about not running photos.”
“Was it Gabriella?” Nat asked.
Foley frowned. It had to be Gabriella who told Walter to use her name. There was a high road, paved with dignity and respect, but the low road, for all its speed bumps and axle cracking, career derailing potholes, was so much more appealing. She closed her eyes. If she was going to be general manager, if she was going to be Gabriella’s boss, she couldn’t very well throw her under a speeding bus at the first opportunity. The second maybe, but the first, she had to be better than that.
She looked from Nat in her inside out shirt to Nathan of the snakeskin undies and made what promises she could. “There won’t be any more astoturfing. Walter won’t be easy to shut down. He likes being a local hero. I’ll talk to Hugh, we’ll do our best.”
Next morning she did talk to Hugh, and Hugh talked to Roger and Roger wanted to talk to her.
“He wants to talk to me,” she said to Hugh when he called her desk.
“The one and only.”
“I’m scared.”
“That’s probably a good idea. He ripped me a new one for keeping him out of the loop and then I reminded him about plausible deniability and I’m back in his good books, and then I quit, and the whole process started again.”
“That must’ve been fun, but it doesn’t explain why he wants to talk to me.”
“He’s on your side, Foley. Now get your tail into his office and convince him he’s right to be.”
She did it quickly, no bathroom pit stop, no lingering for lipstick, no one more email. If she thought about this too much, she’d chicken out. There was always a chance Roger’s assistant, Donna, would turn her away anyway. Donna waved her right through.