“It’s time,” Cindy says as she approaches us and guides us toward a door. When she opens it for us, the flashes of the photographers go wild. I grab Silver’s hand and guide her to the podium in front of the chairs where the journalists are waiting for us.
I stand tall in front of the microphone, reluctantly letting go of Silver’s hand. Maintaining contact with her helps me know how she’s feeling. I notice her tensing when we enter the room, almost tugging me back, but then she trusts me again and follows me in front of everyone.
This is a massive leap of faith on her part. She is literally trusting me with her life and the lives of her family members, and I feel the weight of the responsibility on my shoulders. It’s a big burden I’m willing to carry for her.
“Wow. You really like gossip, don’t you?” I say, assessing the thirty plus journalists seated in front of us and the twenty more photographers standing in the back.
The room comes alive with chuckles. I wait until the murmurs die down again before speaking.
“You all know why we announced this press conference, right? The woman next to me, the one you haven’t stopped harassing for days, is my fiancé, Silver. We wanted to keep our relationship private, but you clearly had something else in mind, didn’t you?” I scold jokingly, but I’m damn serious.
The way they unleashed the manhunt against us was disgusting. I had to double the security at my home because they tried to jump over the eight-foot wall to take pictures of me and Silver, not knowing that she doesn’t live there. Miraculously, Matthew worked his magic and they haven’t discovered where she lives yet, but we have a couple of men at her apartment to be sure there’s no trouble.
Cindy steps beside me and points to a journalist, a woman I often see around because she writes a political column for a local newspaper. She stands up, paper and pen in hand.
“Mr. Wyden, isn’t it convenient that we’re just now finding out about not a girlfriend but a fiancé when there are rumors surfacing about you being gay?”
We went over these kinds of questions a lot because we know how they can backfire. Silver knows it too, but I can sense her tensing besides me. She was infuriated when we told her someone would ask these kinds of questions. She can’t understand why people feel entitled to ask such private questions.
“You’re the ones who spread those rumors. I’ve always had a girlfriend first, then a fiancé by my side. I just respected her wish to stay out of the public eye.” I glance at Silver and smile, partly to reassure her, partly to play the role of a person in love. She smiles back shyly and I’m not sure she’s pretending being uncomfortable.
Cindy points to Greg, an old school journalist who is a pain in the ass. “Are you going to marry before your potential election or are we going to see her disappear a few months after the midterms? You know, a convenient breakup?”
I want to punch him in the face, but I smile instead. “Sorry, Greg, you’re not invited to the wedding, which is why you don’t have the date noted in your calendar. Trust me, our closest friends know exactly when we’re getting married and they’re excited. But we’ll shoot out a press release to let the public know.”
Someone chuckles, someone murmurs, the flashes go off from time to time, but we’re not here to satisfy their perverse desire to know everything about my private life. It’s to put out the word that I’m going to have a wife soon, so I suddenly become reliable and trustworthy. This press conference is a farce, and they know it too.
A younger journalist stands up. I don’t know his name, haven’t seen him much before. He clears his throat then looks down at his notepad. “Mr. Wyden, some are saying that your relationship with the woman is purely sexual and that you were looking elsewhere to find a wife. Is that true?”
The room goes quiet, everyone waiting for my reply. They probably got tipped off by my dating history in the last few weeks, and the list my father gave me.
I’m about to call it quits when Silver grabs my arm and gently demands my attention. I turn and study her carefully for a moment.
“Can I answer this question?” she asks loud enough for everyone in the room to hear.
She’s not shy, or even intimidated. The fire in her eyes reveals an angry woman and I can’t wait to hear what she has to say. Anything is better than me launching into a lie that could be found out if some of the women I dated talk.
“Of course!” I step aside to give her space at the podium.
“Sorry, I didn’t getyour name. Can you repeat it, please?” she asks the journalist, and he’s a bit confused. I take it she didn’t much like him referring to her asthe woman, like she’s not a person in this room.
“Jared.”
“Tell me,Jared, do you have a wife?” she asks in a polite but firm tone.
“Yes,” he answers a bit amused by the situation and I’m enjoying where this conversation is going.
“How many times a week do you have sex with your wife and which is your favorite position?” she asks with a smile, and I almost choke trying not to laugh.
The flashes start bombarding her and a murmur rises from the crowd, but she seems completely unaware of it, staring down the poor guy with a smile on her face. The guy blushes a bit and rubs a hand on the back of his neck.
“That’s kind of private. Don’t you think?” he counters in a condescending tone, not getting where she’s going with her questioning.
Silver gasps and puts a hand over her chest. “I’m so sorry. I thought your line of questioning was aboutourprivate sexual life. I didn’t get that it’s inappropriate to ask a person if a relationship is purely sexual. I’m new here and I don’t know the etiquette. My bad,” she counters back innocently, making everyone laugh and the flashes go wild.
The guy sits down, embarrassed, and the roars of questions for Silver are deafening.
“Did you choose your dress yet?” a woman asks, completely ignoring me.