Page 27 of War
Eleven
Senator Jay Edwards leaned back into his plush leather chair. The sunlight still peeked through the whispering tree leaves, and shined a much-needed light in his office. He softly yawned and flipped another page on the dossier he’d received on one Noah Matthews.
It was a doozy.
Jay briefly looked outside and thought about everything he could be doing at the moment. His girlfriend, Aileen, was waiting for him back at their shared townhome. She’d promised him to suck him seven ways to Sunday, and his dick itched at the thought seeing her full lips wrapped around him.
His other girlfriend, Dove, wanted him to torture her using all sorts of illicit devices to bring her to multiple orgasms. She wanted Jay to use all of her holes in any way he pleased. He quietly sighed thinking about her moans.
His wife, Sanora, as always, watched. Sometimes, she joined in.
Jay grumbled as he remembered the heavy manila folder in his hands. He hated when people messed with the most important thing in his life – time. He could always get more money. He could never get time back.
He refocused his attention back to the dossier.
Multiple accusations of child molestation were lobbied against Noah. He had a penchant for underprivileged young boys. The poorer they were, the more he took advantage of them, using his brother’s name and wealth to ensure the victims silence.
Multiple cases spelled out multiple payouts. Ten million dollars over the course of five years were paid to the victims’ families in exchange they never said a word about it. The good ol’ non-disclosure agreement.
Noah’s only job was a pseudo-manager for his brother, Darren. Jay didn’t have to wonder where that money came from.
Jay rubbed his eyes and yawned. He spent the past hour combing through the dossier and he still had another volume to go through. Maybe he could study the dossier over a nice bread bowl of clam chowder. Or maybe a juicy steak. Something to make the information of child rape easier to digest.
Darren, himself, was no poster boy. Other than being a typical athlete with different women in multiple cities, no one would blink an eye at his dirty laundry. Most people would talk about it for a day before they moved onto something else.
Jay had to give up to his best friend, Dominic. When he wanted something or someone located, Dominic moved heaven and earth to find it. No stone was left unturned, and Dominic’s name was often spoken in hushed tones in certain parts of the world.
Dominic’s research led him to Bed Stuy. A couple of families didn’t sign a NDA nor did they receive any payout. The statute of limitations hadn’t expired yet. The FBI was currently building a case against Noah and an arrest was imminent.
Jackpot.
In exchange, Jay let Dominic have his wife anytime he wanted her, in addition to a very generous salary. After all, that’s what friends are for.
Jay would worry about the debt he’ll pay back his friend later. He needed to figure out how the news of America’s favorite quarterback covering up his brother’s pedophilia was going to play out in the public.
It couldn’t come out as a knockout blow; no, the gossip would’ve swept it away before it made it to the evening news. He would have to do the old-school route. A whisper. Then a rumor. Finally, confirmation.
Jab, jab, hook, knockout.
Nicholas D’Amato had been extremely loyal to the Edwards, protecting them at all costs. He’d never hinted his affiliation with the Edwards and feigned surprise when they were introduced to him in public for the first time.
They’d practically raised Nick themselves, cultivating him when he was barely a 21-year-old college student and training him to become of the best Doms in the world. They took the shy, awkward Nicholas D’Amato and transformed him into Saint Nick, encouraging the swag and confidence that was hidden. He was a master student.
Whatever Jay and his wife wanted of Nick, he didn’t hesitate to do. He never asked questions; he just did as he was told. Most importantly, he kept quiet as he did it. The Edwards never doubted his loyalty at any time.
As a result, the D’Amatos, unbeknownst to them, were always protected. Sanora placed certain people in her media ownership to ensure a bad word was never said about the family. Sure, there was tons of speculation. But proof? Never.
Jay decided he was going to get a bread bowl of clam chowder after all. And he would take the dossier full of bad shit along with him. Maybe a Samuel Adams and some warm soup would make it easier to figure out a solid game plan.
It was the very least they could do for Nick and his family.
