A/N – I want to thank all of you for your truly fantastic reviews. I was thinking that we could do contests per chapter where I ask a question and the first three who respond correctly will get a sneak peek of the following chapter. Is there anyone who would be game for this?
This chapter does end with a cliffhanger – it didn't get cut off. I didn't want to make the chapter any longer and had to make a decision to end it somewhere. – G.
"Nous ne sommes qu'aux des autres et c'est à partir du regard des autres que nous nous assumons comme nous." – Jean-Paul Sartre
Downfall
Chapter Four
Paparazzi
Beep. Beep. Beep.
Olivia groaned and rolled over in her bed, slamming her fist against the alarm clock and tangling her legs in the satin sheets. She stumbled as she stood from the bed before kicking her legs free of the deep violet material.
Her phone buzzed and she turned her attention to the slim device. Three missed calls and seven text messages. She shook her head – no doubt they were added attempts made by her friends to get her to join them for spring break. They could wait until after her morning ritual.
Grabbing a pair of jeans and a light, grey sweater, she headed toward her bathroom and the shower that waited for her there. The warm water felt good as it sluiced against her tired muscles. She grabbed for her sandalwood scented body wash, inhaling the intoxicating scent as she rubbed it into her skin.
Her morning routine took a little longer than normal – she had spent a few extra minutes under the warm water than she usually would. Stepping out from under the now lukewarm spray, goosebumps began peppering Olivia's otherwise smooth skin as she hurriedly wrapped a grey towel around her shivering body. It didn't take her long to dress and make her way to her kitchen and the steaming pot of coffee waiting for her.
As she sat nursing a warm mug between her hands, the blinking of her phone caused her to turn her head toward the device. She sighed and finally reached a hand out to pick the slim phone up. Unlocking the screen, she began scrolling through her several text messages.
"Where are you?"
"Have you seen the paper?"
"Well now I know why you wouldn't go on a date with me…awkward." The text from the resident bad boy at Lincoln, Mason, had Olivia furrowing her brows. What was that supposed to mean? She sighed and continued on to her next and final text – from her best friend.
"Olivia Carolyn Pope, you little slut! I didn't think you had it in you! Call me?"
Olivia shook her head. What was she missing? Something happened that had set everyone on edge and she didn't like the sinking feeling that that something involved her. Deciding to get straight to the point, she began dialing.
"Olivia," Chloe's loud, shrill shriek caused Olivia to pull the phone back from her ear a few inches, "Why did you tell me you were seeing someone? As your best friend, I find that offensive."
Olivia laughed at the pout that had made its way into Chloe's voice – she had always been a tad immature and wild, but that only seemed to balance out Olivia's personality. On the surface, their friendship didn't make much sense to anyone but them.
"I'm not seeing anyone." Olivia finally settled the phone back against her ear, confident that there wouldn't be any more squealing on her friend's part. Chloe loved drama and Olivia was certain that the beginning of the conversation had nothing to do with Chloe's hurt over being kept in the dark about some supposed secret but more to do with her need to cause a scene for most everything.
"Really?" Chloe's shocked tone only added fuel to Olivia's confusion, "Because the front page of the paper would disagree."
"What are you talking about?"
"You haven't seen the paper?"
"No…" Olivia wondered what the sudden enthusiasm for the morning paper was about. Chloe rarely read anything except the glossy pages of whatever magazine currently interested her and occasionally her textbooks half-way through the semester when she began worrying that she might actually fail. Not that it would happen – Chloe had her ways of making sure she passed. Ways that Olivia didn't approve.
"Are you dressed?"
"Yes?"
"Good. Now go to your front door, open it, and get the paper," Chloe commanded and Olivia stood from her kitchen table, taking heavy, slow steps toward her front door. She was suddenly apprehensive about what she would find on the other side.
"Why did you ask if I was dressed?" She asked, trying to break the tension that was causing her muscles to bulk at every little movement she made.
"Because you're my friend and I didn't want you to be that weirdo who opens the door in their underwear to get the morning paper."
"You really think I would do that?" Olivia snorted. Chloe never ceased to amaze her.
"Well no but I thought it wouldn't hurt to check, you know?" Olivia's hand found the doorknob and she twisted, throwing the wooden door open and grabbing the paper from the black mat outside. She noticed one of her neighbors, the young mother across the hall, giving her a disapproving look as she hurried back into her apartment, clutching the newspaper to her chest. She took one look at the front page before exploding into the phone, causing Chloe to squeal in pain and almost drop her phone from her ear.
"What the hell is this?"
"If I knew the answer to that, do you really think I would be asking you?" Chloe's sarcasm caused Olivia to smirk through her anger.
"You don't believe this do you?"
"Let's see, would I believe the paparazzi over my best friend?" Chloe paused, pretending to think for a minute before calling out over her shoulder, "Mason, should I believe this jackass journalist or Olivia?"
"You brought Mason in on this?" Olivia groaned. Mason Hart, to the outside world, was charming, rich, and intelligent. Everything a girl should want. To Olivia, he was arrogant and egotistical – always trying to by what he wants and never working for it. He had become her own personal shadow their first year at Lincoln and couldn't seem to take no for an answer. It was infuriating and Chloe's infatuation with him only seemed to fuel him in his attempt to win Olivia. He seemed to thrive on playing games with everyone's emotions.
"He was here when I saw the paper," Chloe admitted and at least she had the decency to seem somewhat apologetic.
"I'm not having an affair," Olivia stated, staring down in disgust at the picture that glared back at her from the morning paper. It was an innocent enough looking picture of she and Fitz sharing lunch, but of course the media hadn't portrayed it as that.
"I don't doubt that. I mean we are talking about the Olivia Pope here. She spends too much time reading and studying to care about boys," Chloe giggled and Olivia stuck her tongue out at her friend's description of her, even though Chloe couldn't see the gesture.
"But seriously, Liv, how do you know him?"
Olivia sighed. The truth was the best course to take here and she could trust Chloe. She couldn't trust Mason, but she could trust Chloe. "Are you still near Mason?"
"Yes?"
"Then I'm not telling you anything."
"Ugh. You are impossible. Hold on." Olivia waited impatiently as she heard Chloe shooing Mason from the room. It took a few minutes, but finally Chloe, sounding out of breath, began speaking once more:
"Okay."
"Remember when I was late to class three weeks ago?" She didn't wait for a response, expecting Chloe to remember the unusual occurrence. Olivia was never late for class. "I had a flat. Fitz…"
"You call him Fitz?"
"Can I continue?"
"Please do."
"Fitz stopped and helped me. We exchanged numbers – we were both in a hurry and I felt it was only right to thank him. We went for coffee and I don't know…we kind of hit it off. In a mentor way not a romantic way," Olivia tried downplaying what she wasn't entirely sure of – the nature of her relationship with Fitz.
"You are in deep shit." Olivia sighed. Chloe always had a way of summing things up that not only made her feel worse about any situation, but were also irrefutable.
"What happened to you having this all under control?" Cyrus gloated, perched on the corner of his desk with the morning paper resting on his knee as he watched Mellie for the tiniest reaction.
"Nothing's changed," Mellie asserted, but her voice wavered. A lot had changed. She barely knew Fitz anymore. He hadn't spoken much to her since yesterday and his abrupt departure, leaving her to brave lunch with Senator Brown and later dinner with Cyrus by herself had her frowning. Fitz was becoming wild, unpredictable and Mellie did not like that.
"I wish I could believe you. I want to believe you, but to do that would be to allow Fitz to slip from between our fingers while we sit here with our hands tied." For once Cyrus sounded tired, exhausted by the idea of losing. His gaze traveled back to the paper and Mellie's followed.
"Who is this girl?" Mellie jabbed her finger at the paper, her eyes flashing with an anger that did nothing but contrast with her beautiful, composed features. But Mellie wasn't composed. She was far from it and Cyrus could sense it. She had been in a foul mood since she first saw the picture of the young, beautiful woman with her husband.
"I don't have an answer for that. I have my people looking into it – trying to dig up a name, but Mellie, we have to be patient."
"Have you talked to Fitz about her?" Mellie wrinkled her nose, her tone speaking of the unnamed woman as if she were a disease that Mellie would gladly rid herself of if she could.
"I haven't seen Fitz," Cyrus admitted, looking at Mellie with wide eyes.
"He hasn't been with you?"
"No. I thought he was with you."
"I haven't seen him since yesterday afternoon. He never came home last night." Mellie at least had the courtesy to look panicked. Fitz had never gone missing on them before and neither knew how to handle the situation. It didn't take long for Cyrus to dig his phone out of his pocket, but he was too slow for Mellie who had already dialed Fitz's number and was impatiently tapping her foot as she listened to the ringing, waiting for Fitz to pick up. She sighed in frustration when she got his voicemail instead.
Cyrus shook his head as she unleashed a torrent of curse words. He ignored her ranting, holding his phone to his ear and listening to the same ringing that Mellie had listened to only seconds earlier. Within seconds the ringing had stopped. Unlike Mellie; however, Cyrus was greeted by Fitz's cold voice.
"What do you want?"
"Where are you?" Mellie's attention snapped to Cyrus when she heard his words and she began calling out questions in rapid succession.
"He answered your call? Where is he? What is he doing? Has he seen the paper? Who is that girl?" Cyrus held his hand up, silencing Mellie with one look. She huffed and flopped into her seat in the most ungraceful way possible, folding her arms over her chest.
"What. Do. You. Want?" Fitz repeated his question with tight, clipped words – refusing to give into Cyrus's demands. It was childish, he knew but he was at a breaking point with his supposed best friend and was tired of being pushed around like some damn puppet.
"No one can find you." Cyrus tried a different approach. Instead of demanding to know where Fitz was, he would take the concerned friend angle. It had always worked before and Cyrus had no reason to believe that it wouldn't work this time.
"That sounds pleasant." Fitz's offhand comment took Cyrus by surprise. He stood with his mouth hanging open; gasping for words like a fish for water. He tried to listen to all the background noises he could hear from Fitz's end, but the sound of traffic and children laughing did nothing to clue him in on where his errant friend happened to be.
"Give me some kind of hint," Cyrus finally begged. He wasn't the type of man to get down and grovel, but he also wasn't the kind of man to lose what he wanted most because of some misplaced pride. If it took begging to find Fitz's location then beg he would.
"A hint? Hm…here's one for you, and you can pass it along to Mellie too," Fitz began.
"Mellie isn't –"
"I'm not stupid, Cyrus. I know she's there with you. When you two decide to stop gossiping about me like a couple of scorned high school lovers, you can look at my schedule and you will know exactly where I am." He didn't wait for a response, gleefully ending the call and effectively shutting Cyrus out once more.
"Well?" Mellie demanded the moment Cyrus sat his phone on his desk.
"Do you have a copy of his schedule?"
"In my office. Why?"
"Just get it, Mellie," Cyrus snapped, running a hand over his face as Mellie narrowed her eyes in his direction. The look that Cyrus threw in her direction soon had her scrambling for her office. It didn't take her long to locate the paper she was looking for and bring it to Cyrus.
"I thought you were in charge of his schedule," Cyrus grumbled as he glanced over the paper Mellie had handed him.
"I was until he sent his secretary around with a new copy this morning. Do not ask how or when he got the time to completely undo what I had done."
"I don't like this," Cyrus observed, scanning the paper until he found the 1:30 slot, "He's at the opening of a park downtown."
"Let's go," Mellie commanded, already heading for the door.
"Thank you for being with us today, Representative." An older brunette said as she shook Fitz's hand.
"Thank you for having me. The children seem to enjoy this. It will be a nice place for them to play," Fitz grinned. For the first time in months he found himself enjoying a campaign stop. He should have taken the schedule into his own hands years ago – after his first campaign.
He stood silently listening to the men and women around prattle on about the park and what an improvement it would be to the community. When the conversation began to grow listless, he gracefully excused himself and found a place underneath a shady oak tree to observe his surroundings. His peaceful observations didn't last long before they were shattered by the ringing of his phone. He groaned when he read the name on the screen – he would rather deal with Cyrus again.
"Hi dad," He greeted as cheerfully as he could. The amount of time he had spent the last few weeks messing with Mellie and Cyrus was taking a toll on his energy. He didn't feel like he had any left to argue with his father.
"I never thought I would be saying this to you, but what the hell?" Jerry Grant bellowed into the phone. His tone wasn't as menacing as it typically was when he spoke to his son – in fact he sounded nearly giddy with pride. That confused Fitz to no end as he tried to think of what he could have possibly done to make his father proud and what he could subsequently do to dispel that pride.
"I'm not even going to pretend like I know what you're talking about." Fitz's shoulders slumped as he waited for his father to respond.
"I have to admit, I never thought you would be the kind to have a mistress, but to flaunt her in town? Come on, son. You can do better than that." Fitz groaned. He knew that Jerry was talking about the morning paper and that photo of himself with Olivia. He hated how the media had turned an innocent meal with a friend into something it wasn't. Now he had to think of some way to wiggle himself out of the impending carnage.
"I don't…"
"Nonsense. You chose well too! She's a looker," Jerry interrupted and Fitz shook his head.
"She's not my mistress," He stated in a harsh tone.
"Then why were you having lunch with her?" Fitz hated how his father, the misogynist that he was, could not understand a friendship between a man and woman when he saw it. Knowing that he would never get his father to understand, Fitz told a lie that he hoped he would have the guts to make true.
"She's my new campaign manager. I'm announcing it this evening."
"And for a second there, I thought you really were my son after all." Jerry sounded disappointed and it came as no shock to Fitz when he hung up seconds later.
"Olivia, we need to talk." The stern look on Eli's face, coupled with his authoritative tone, had Olivia almost cowering in front of her father – transporting her back to a time when she was younger and had no choice but to follow her father's every instruction.
"Okay," She mumbled, opening the door further and allowing him entrance to her small apartment. She had a sinking feeling that she knew what this conversation would be about and she had no idea how to respond to any question or accusation he threw her way.
Eli followed her to the small living room, sitting in a grey, overstuffed sofa as Olivia perched on the chair across from him. She sat on the edge, as if she were readying herself to run at any moment. She could practically feel a cold sweet break out across her brow as she waited for her father to speak.
"How could you? You have a brilliant career ahead of you and you throw it away to be some man's mistress?" Eli spat the word at his only child. He looked at her as if she had grown another head and become an atrocity to society – she certainly was one to his carefully laid out future.
"I'm not his mistress," Olivia barely managed to choke out, casting her eyes to the floor. An unusually submissive move for the strong-willed woman, but she found it difficult to be anything but submissive when it came to her father.
"Then what are you? Because none of this is looking too good for you right now. It's almost as if you don't care about…" He was cut off by a swift knocking on the door. Olivia let out a breath of relief and silently thanked whoever had been kind enough to interrupt her father's tirade. She stood from the chair, excusing herself, and headed straight for the door – nearly skipping.
She frowned when she swung the door open to reveal a flustered Fitz on the other side. She was flustered and didn't know how she would explain this to her father. Nonetheless, she invited him in – with a look of warning as she led him to the sofa where her father was.
Quickly putting two and two together, Fitz put on his most charming smile as he stuck his hand out to shake Eli's. The two men stared at each other for longer than necessary. The awkwardness of the situation was as thick as morning fog.
"It's nice to meet you, Mr. Pope," Fitz grinned, casting his eyes sideway to see Olivia looking as worried as ever, "I'm pleased to have your daughter on board as my campaign manager."
Olivia's heart stopped for a moment before quickly resuming its normal pace. Campaign manager? Was he out of his mind? There were plenty of older, more experienced people who deserved that title and he was thrusting it on her? Not that she was complaining.
"When did this happen?" Eli's voice was hard, still unsure if he believed the two.
"Yesterday during our lunch meeting – which the press has been kind enough to blow out of portion for me." Fitz chuckled and Olivia narrowed her eyes. How was he so calm?
"And you are going to make it right, correct? My daughter has a bright future ahead of her, Representative, and these rumors cannot continue."
"Of course," Fitz nodded, allowing his shoulders to relax at what he presumed to be the older man's complete compliance with their story.
"Good," Eli gave a tight smile, "Now would you care to explain why you are visiting my daughter at her home?"