Updated: June 18, 2023
Aubrey
After an hour of discharge instructions and scheduling follow-up appointments, not to mention the gathering of all the flowers and gifts, we finally headed down to the truck. Clay wheeled me down as we said our goodbyes and thanked the nursing staff. Two officers stayed with me while he drove around to the entrance. I thanked them both for protecting me on this boring assignment.
They were sweet and kind and thanked me for the easy work over the last eleven days. Wishing me a speedy recovery, they shook hands with Clay and left in their patrol cars.
He practically lifted me into the seat,
“Jesus Bree, you like a feather, honey. You need to put some weight back on.” He mumbled with concern.
Once on the road, I exhaled with relief.
“Finally,” I sighed. I was inspecting my poor arms and hands, all bruised from needle sticks and IV changes. The stippling had faded, but overall I looked like an abused wife again. It was making me nauseous.
Clay reached for my hand.
“Too right, honey. Even driving feels great. You must be over the moon to be out of there,” he smiled over at me.
“I am, I’m ready to get back to work and sleep in my own bed. Or which bed is there?” I asked wondering what furniture actually made it out to the cottage.
Clay thought about it for a minute.
“Most of the new Port Royal furniture was sold. Our bed is at the cottage, but I kept my original sofa, it’s is still there in front of the fireplace. All your office furniture and kitchen stuff went over. All our pictures hung on the walls. Clothes, decorations, and stuff are there. I’m not rightly sure of everything honey, guess we’ll figure it out when we get there.” He laughed.
When we pulled up to the cottage I thought I was dreaming. It was entirely refurbished. It emerged from out of a fairy tale. New roof, pretty blue shingling, and white shutters.
Multi-colored flowers blooming around the front and stairs, the entire porch widened and screened in with all my beach wicker inside tucked in and arranged for cozy conversation.
The ceiling of the porch had been painted in Haint Blue. I knew this legend from my father. It originated with the Gullah culture as a way to ward off haints, ghosts and evil spirits. Most coastal homes in South Carolina and Georgia have the same hue inside the porch ceilings. The tactic is to mimic the sky or the ocean which fool ghosts and spirits and prevents them from crossing through to the house. More modernly the belief that it prevented spiders and wasps from nesting was its more practical use in the Lowcountry.
The palmetto trees were gently swaying in the breeze, and it appeared the Spanish Moss had doubled in volume, lazily draping off of the oak and magnolia trees framing the cottage on both sides.
Everyone was there to welcome me home, Livvie and Jimmy Lee, Lora Jean and her husband Henry, Carl Higgins, and Miss Angelica. Tate and Katrina came to the truck to help unload the stuff and I started to cry, it was perfect.
Clay lifted me out of the truck and carried me up the stairs over the threshold and into the house.
“Long past time I did this for you, my bride,” he smiled with relief, easing me down onto my feet.
I was speechless when we got inside. Gleaming light hardwood floors and freshly painted walls with all my sea glass palate colors–new area rugs and window treatments. Our original dark blue sectional sofa (my favorite) from when we previously lived there . Our pictures hung on the wall; our wedding pictures, both of our parents wedding pictures, and recent pictures of Tate and Katrina, even framed professional shots of Clay in his legendary Gator Bowl win.
And I almost split my stitches when I saw the 5×7 of Livvie as Miss Watermelon Festival 1998 hung amongst them.
She wrapped her arm around my frail shoulders and laughed happily.
“Whatcha think darlin’? I thought it might brighten the place up for y’all.” Barely containing her amusement.
“Liv, I’ll die from the laughter, don’t do it to me,” I snorted.
“Someone fetch the tiger for this poor girl,” Livvie exclaimed. And we both almost lost it.
I walked through slowly taking in all the changes. It was charming and cozy, and I could feel my body relax. This was home, I should have never left.
When I got to the kitchen I saw Miss Dottie arranging platters of food and she held her arms out to embrace me.
“Sweet girl, we got to put some meat back on your bones. “Welcome home, Miss Aubrey,” she grinned.
The kitchen was spectacular, new cabinets and a carved-out breakfast nook with new windows looking out over the pond. All painted and accessorized in a peach motif. The café curtains with tiny, embroidered peaches and tree leaves. Tile backsplashes and granite countertops. The mud room repainted and sporting a new washer and dryer.
Our bedroom was double the size, two new closets, all our clothes unpacked and organized. Paneled in white bead board and accented with driftwood and coastal décor.
Most importantly our king-sized bed from the beach house prepared with new blue and grey linen and pillows. Antique, white washed dressers and bedside tables with vintage coastal style lamps and mirrors. The master bath was completely redone with walk in shower and a double vanity.
Tate came in to summon me to the dining room. He handed me an adorable small plush sea turtle.
“This is for you, Miss Aubrey. Remind you not to go too fast. We love you very much and I wanted to thank you for coming back to my Dad.” His voice was breaking, and I hugged him close.
“Thank you, Tate. I love him and you all very much.” He patted my back affectionately. “C’mon now, there’s plenty to eat out there and you can try everything to see what sits.” He was so sweet.
The table was set for all our friends and family with my transplanted dishes and Miss Dottie took care of serving the platters and pouring lemonade and sweet tea.
Clay sat beside me and ran his hand onto my leg softly. Livvie passed down a small plate of her fried chicken. “Bree, this is for you, fixin’ to give it a try?” she asked hopefully.
I smiled with joy,
“Liv even half dead, I’d never pass on your fried chicken,”
Miss Dottie brought me a thick milkshake she had prepared for me,
“Black and white, right darlin’? I sighed with delight.
I was overwhelmed with love and gratitude and the tears came quickly.
“Thank you all so much, this is extraordinary. Mr. Carl I cannot thank you enough, it’s like I stepped into Brigadoon. Right out of a fairy tale.” I sighed, still looking around at everything.
He blushed and grinned with pride.
“We all so happy you still with us Miss Aubrey, I’d have built y’all anything you wanted to come back here and get better,” he said softly.
Tate looked up from his plate happily,
“Thanks for updating my bedroom too, Mr. Carl. Much obliged.” The entire table chuckled.
Jimmy Lee stood with his glass in hand.
“Welcome home, Miss Aubrey,” and we all toasted.
Later that evening after everyone left, Clay and I curled up on our old familiar sofa and exhaled simultaneously.
“You feel like you’re home, Sugar?” he whispered.
I snuggled next to him and whispered,
“Home is where you are, Clay. It has always been. Thank you for all of this, I know this was an enormous job, yes, I’m home and safe.”
“Honey, I was all about never stepping back into that house before you regained consciousness. I’m overjoyed you wanted to come back here. This is our space, and now it’s more perfect than it ever was.” He leaned down to kiss me.
“When are you thinking about going back to work?” I asked quietly.
“Depending on how you are feeling, I was toying with Monday. Gives us a long weekend to get adjusted and I can do some catch up beforehand.” He replied, whispering into my hair.
“Sounds good, I’m ready to get back in myself. I’ve yet to get through the ledgers and letters from Saint Helena, and the files from the investigation are heading to me.” I whispered.
He held me close wrapped in his arms,
“I’m not hurting you, Sugar, am I?” he asked tenderly.
“No Clay, I’m fine. Eventually we’re going to try to make love again right? Doctor said I can’t lift anything heavy for six more weeks, but I’m cleared to drive and for sex.”
“Oh Sugar, I can’t yet. You still so fragile to me, I’m afraid to rattle you around any.” He said sadly.
I stared into his eyes,
“What is it you all say down here, ‘can’t never could’ right? Let’s try, slow and easy and see what I can do. I’ll straddle you to keep the weight distributed.” He appeared unsure and terrified.
I sat up in his lap and started to kiss him,
“I’m not made out of Porcelain, Clay Hoover. Let’s attempt this, one step at a time.” I encouraged.
He ran his hands into my hair and kissed me back, his urgency evident, but he was reigned in. I removed my tee shirt and bra and brought his hands to my breasts. He moaned with desire and took my nipples in his mouth, one at a time.
“Fuck, I’ve missed you Sugar,” he groaned low and hungry. I covered the incision with my shirt, ashamed of the ugliness.
Clay tore it from my hands and threw it on the floor. Fire came from his gaze. He held my chin in his hand.
“Don’t ever cover yourself around me, I love every fucking inch of you, this is a battle wound and I’m proud–so proud of the fight you put up to survive.” He whispered insistently.
He carefully brought us both to the floor and laid me back. He removed my pants and panties and kissed his way up my thigh,
“Miss Kitty, you look lonely,” he snickered. He went down on me gentle and delicious. I felt the first orgasm seize through me and it came with pain in my abdomen, but I stifled the wince.
He removed his pants, he sat back against the sofa and assisted me down on to his erection, slow and relaxed. I took my time and lowered myself, burying him deep inside me. My hands on his shoulders for balance.
“Good God, that thing gets bigger,” I shrieked.
“Am I hurting you Bree? Please tell me if am,” he begged, his face flushed with arousal.
“No, fuck all, it’s so good!” I gasped. He held my hips and did the work, I had no muscle strength in my torso, so he lifted me up and down onto him. Moving quicker as passion overtook him.
“Sugar…..damn it to hell….I can’t control myself,” he gushed in my ear.
I held onto his shoulders and stared into his glazed eyes, my hair falling around both our faces,
“Let go Clay, all of you, give me everything…baby,” I compelled, it felt remarkable, pain and all.
He obeyed, harder and faster and I grabbed my stuffed tiger off the sofa from behind him and braced it against the incision.
“Goddamned woman, you are a work of art inside and out,” he gasped rough, thrusting into me, while still weakly attempting to restrict himself. He kissed me and sucked my tongue into his mouth, and then bit down on my bottom lip.
“Dear God!!!!” we exclaimed as we climaxed at the same time in a blast of heat and breathlessness. We sat there, catching our wind as he relaxed out of me. He helped me up and back into my clothes.
“Sugar, you okay? Did I hurt you in any way, let me see the incision.” He was frantic. I sat back onto the sofa and chuckled softly.
“No Clay, you didn’t hurt me. I really needed that. And so did you. I’m okay, all clear, nothing torn or shaken. I just don’t have any muscle strength to ride you.” I said sadly.
He dressed again and took me back in his arms on the sofa.
“Sugar, you light as a feather, I can do the lifting. I do miss that thick ass, we gonna need to get you back to fightin’ weight. Thank you for pushing the issue, I’m glad you did, I’d be afraid to touch you if you hadn’t.” He kissed me softly.
“I love you so much Aubrey. I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you from all this, I was standing right there, and I didn’t do a damn thing to stop it,” he said, his voice thick with emotion.
I turned to kiss him, gently stoking his cheek and goatee.
“Stop. Neither one of us had any idea this would happen. Honey if it wasn’t for you, I’d never have made it.” I assured him. “Look at me baby, you saved my life.”
“I will set fire to New Jersey to get justice for this,” he mumbled.
“No baby, let it lie. It’s done now. He’s dead and that’s their punishment. It’s over now. I don’t need justice. I survived and that’s a gift. I’m not spitting in God’s eye. Leave it alone.” I asked.
He kissed me, long and hard.
“Don’t you ever try to leave me again, I couldn’t do a day without you. Please Sugar. Get better,” he pleaded, my face in his hands.
I smiled with joy,
“Never again. I promise. You’re stuck with me. Let’s get into our bed, I need a full night where no one is waking me up every half hour to take my temperature.”
Clay laughed and kissed me tenderly.
“Well, I might wake you up to take your temperature, but my way is more fun, you sleeping now with two Clemson tigers,” he helped me off the sofa and we headed to our room.
Clutching my stuffed tiger to my abdomen, I giggled, he was coming back around too. And that made me feel much better.
I don’t think either one of us even moved the comforter, we weaved our arms and legs around each other and fell asleep immediately.
Clay
We spent the next few days wandering around and looking for our belongings–getting our bearings. Occasionally I’d hear Aubrey say, “Oh here they are,” about something she’d discovered. It was like living in a scavenger hunt.
The Assistant Attorney General and my longtime friend, Jasper “Jax” Moody came to visit, bearing flowers for my wife, and we conducted a two-hour conversation on the porch. He was sincerely relieved to hear I was returning to my office beginning of next week and we discussed upcoming cases and worked through the schedules together.
Jasper hugged my wife delicately to himself, “I don’t have to tell y’all how scared we all were, good to see you walking around Aubrey, Mary Lou sends her love. She’s tied up with one of the boys baseball games or she’d be here with me.” He whispered sweetly. “She will stop by this week with some pineapple upside down cake, she knows you love it.”
It was no secret amongst our friends, how much of a fan of my wife my friend Jax was, he was plumb crazy about her and reminded me often he’d steal her away from me the first sign I screwed up as a husband. Asshole.
He also supplied a copied box of confidential files to Aubrey, I carried it into her home office and Jasper briefed her on all the contents.
“Mrs. Hoover, on behalf of the Attorney General’s office, we’re all truly honored to have you in on the case. I’m a big fan of your work and glad we can lead you out of the shadows finally to help us on this,” he gushed. “Everyone is available to you for interview and/or consultation.” The man was a true politician.
“Jax, I’d like the rest, if it’s possible.” She asked gently.
“The rest, Bree?” he inquired.
“The original files on each of the girls and all the statements from the families and friends at the time of their disappearances.” She clarified.
He nodded proudly. “Absolutely Bree, I’ll get them up here to you forthwith. Now take your time darlin’, no one is expecting you back at your desk yet. We need you strong, Ma’am.”
After he left, we were crawling to get out and go for a drive. We talked about the Port Royal house, we’d already received offers on it and we discussed the potential sale. We stopped at a farm stand for homemade ice cream and sat in the truck feeding it to each other.
We discovered a neighborhood flea market and yard sale by chance, and we wandered around browsing. Folks approached us and gave us their good wishes. Children from the neighborhood brought Aubrey bunches of wildflowers and with toothless smiles assured her they been prayin’ for her. The good women of Saint George came from around their yard sale tables and gifted us with homemade baked goods and gentle touches whispering encouragement to my wife.
I could see she was getting tired and brought her home. We had plenty of left overs to pick on for supper and we lounged on the sofa together watching TV. She was curled up between my legs, her head on my chest. I could smell her sweet scent and I exhaled with content.
“You do know that jackass Jasper has a crush on you right?” I teased. “Man is supposed to be my friend,”
Aubrey laughed gently, holding her stuffed tiger to her incision. “It’s okay baby, Mary Lou and I like each other a great deal, and only if she agrees to give him up will we both run away together. I have a crush on him too,” she said jokingly.
“Great, I need to sleep with one eye open all the time now,” I sighed.
She looked up at me, her expression serious. “There is no one else for me in the entire world. I’m madly, widely, and insanely in love with you. You know your friends like to work you up for your reaction. Sometimes I play along.” She kissed me sweetly.
I was flicking through channels when I caught site of Aubrey’s picture on a green screen, behind fucking Shania Greene.
“What in the holy hell?” I mumbled, going back to the channel. This bitch, useless as a screen door on a submarine. What was she clucking about now?
“……now I ask y’all, isn’t there fire when you smell smoke? Our beloved Beaufort Chief Prosecutor should have buyer’s remorse. He ain’t got the good sense God gave a rock. This new wife of his has a dark past and it came knocking on the front door of her sparkling new beach house. Like folks used to say when I was bein’ raised, a rooster one day, a feather duster the next. When we come back I’ll have an exclusive interview with Natalie and Paul Vergamo, the grieving parents of Adam, the misunderstood and tragic ex-husband of Aubrey Hoover…”
I sat up and Aubrey sat up with me, “Clay, don’t let her get you fired up. It’s not worth it baby,” she warned.
I stood up and went looking for my phone, “I’m gonna throttle this cunt with my bare hands,” I stormed.
“Honey, stop,” she pleaded. “Please baby, I don’t have the strength to hold you back and you will burn the village down for want of the idiot. Don’t, don’t bite. Let her be who she is. I can’t fight, I just can’t…” she fell back on the sofa and started crying.
I rushed back to her and held her in my arms.
“Aubrey, she needs to be stopped. I don’t know what she has out for me, but she’s trying to hurt me by hurting you.” I tried to comfort her.
She sat back and looked at me curiously.
“Clay? You don’t know? That is a woman scorned. Tell me the truth, did you date her? Did you sleep with her? She is out for revenge and purely for envy and rejection, because hell hath no fury, like one of them.” She pointed to the television screen.
I shook my head, “No never, we had lunch together one time discussing a case, no romance, no flirting that I can remember. I’ve never been interested in her or led her on in any way.” I vowed sincerely.
“Well she had an entire relationship in her imagination, and you queered the deal, or I did. She’s angry and spiteful and if you bite, you engage in this. Tomorrow morning agree to an interview, insinuating her motives. Don’t use her name, belittle her, give the press the story– the truth and be cool and professional, you’ll take her legs out from under her.” She urged.
I started to calm down, she was right. Cold, and professional would slice Shania in half.
We watched the rest of the show, with the theatrical performance given by Adam’s parents. Their disingenuous denial that their son was capable of harming any one much less his ‘beloved Aubrey’ who had turned against him soon after they were married. If Adam was driven to such a drastic act it could only come from the provocation of his ex-wife.
The bile in my throat was burning and I turned to look at my poor wife. She sat stoic and unfazed.
“Look at them lying, blatantly lying. No tears, all performance.” She mumbled. Then she asked me, “Who is her stiffest competition? Who if they got the exclusive interview from you would burn her panties?” Aubrey asked calmly.
I looked up at the ceiling, trying to muster who best to sic on this job. It came quick to me, the perfect person. “Kelly Parks, she is the chief news director at Law-and-Order TV. They have been at each other’s throats for years.” I replied, intrigued.
Aubrey turned to look at me, “Give her the story. The rebuttal, without invoking any of this interview. Don’t let her think you even watched it. The premise being your first day back to work, progress on your forthcoming cases and the fuzzy rumor of charges against the family for weapon straw purchase and inciting violence. Clearly make inciting violence a thing, and the possibility bottom feeding reporters who keep at a story could provoke unstable people. Quietly, casually mention, ‘domestic violence survivor’ that’s a battle cry for women like me. Make it vague, but make it stick.” She shifted close to me, “Here in the Lowcountry, the only court that really counts is public opinion.” She kissed my cheek softly.
I was impressed. Cold and calculating and fucking brilliant.
“Sugar, you’re lethal.” I whispered with pride.
“No baby, not lethal. Methodical. She wants my husband, there is no chance of that happening. This woman wants your attention. Even if the attention is negative. She wants a rise out of both of us, again, she gets nothing. The high road at all times. We’ll make her insignificant inside a week.”
I picked up my phone and called Lora Jean, “LJ, any chance Kelly Parks has shown up on my call sheet since the shooting?….Excellent, call her back in the morning and tell her I’ll give her the only interview when I get in tomorrow, in my office. Just her, no producers and lighting guys,…..Oh we’re watching it. Man your battle stations Lora Jean, we about to make this fucking snake burn her own birth certificate when we done. See you then,”
I took my wife into my arms and held her close to me. “I will do anything to make you happy, I hate that this is happening.” I kissed the top of her head.
“Clay, I am happy. You make me more than happy. But baby, life is series of minor incidents, occasionally interrupted by major ones. Tomorrow if you deliver a closing argument like you did a few weeks ago–every woman in the 46 counties will be tossing their panties into your truck window and no one will remember Shania Greene by next month.” She whispered.
I arrived to my office early the next morning, I wanted to prepare my remarks. Aubrey and I conferred in bed most of the night and the woman inspired me. This might just work.
Lora Jean arrived not long after me and handed me my bagel and coffee.
“How’s our girl doin’ Clayton?” she asked concerned.
“Still weak, her appetite is slow to come back. None of her clothes fit yet, but she’s getting stronger.” I stood up to embrace her, “Lora Jean, thank you so much for everything you’ve done for both of us since this all went down. I don’t know where I’d be without you.” She patted my back, and when she stepped out of my hug, I could see the tears in her eyes.
“Oh Clay, that poor girl, she gave us all a fright. My pleasure, to help out, anything she needs, you let me know. You’ve got Kelly Parks in an hour.” She chirped happily.
I checked to assure our wedding picture would be visible behind me on the credenza in the camera shot. It was one of the most beautiful photos ever taken, me standing behind my bride, arms around her waist and the two of us smiling into the camera, blissful. I looked okay, but she was spectacular. Her dark hair in an upsweep with tiny flowers tucked randomly throughout, her long, strapless pale beige dress-gossamer and light and the flowers, my mother’s pride, and joy, gathered into a bright bouquet.
Disrupting my wonderful memories appeared Kelly Parks into my office. She was an attractive woman, tall and blonde with a great body. She strolled into my office like a peacock. Still in a million years, she couldn’t hold a candle to my wife.
“Clayton Hoover, I don’t know why I’m here, but I’m tickled pink you called back. Been a long time since you’ve given me an interview.” She flirted wildly.
“I do apologize for the lag time, Kelly, I try to spread the wealth among the team, I’m not hankerin’ to be a media star. Thanks for doing this. The Attorney General asked me to make a statement about the recent events and more importantly assure the good folks of Beaufort I’m still doing the work I was put here to do.” I was toying with my wedding band idly.
I motioned for her to take a seat. She had one camera guy with her and before we began she asked, “anything off limits?”
“I won’t name names Miss Parks, but you ask the questions you have.”
They set up the taped shot and I sat back in my chair.
“Clayton Hoover today is your first day back to work since the shocking incident involving your new wife Aubrey. First, how is she doing?”
“She is doing well, she has a long road ahead, but my woman is an inspiration. Thank you for asking after her,” I replied humbly.
“Clayton, what all happened? The details are sketchy and horrific,”
“As you know Miss Parks, I cannot comment on an ongoing investigation. To set part of the record straight, Aubrey’s ex-husband shot her in the doorway to our home and turned the gun on himself. Those are the facts. Now how he got a gun with his record interested me as you can imagine and it’s come to light it was very recently purchased for him, by an individual who had been menacing Aubrey consistently for months. Investigators are combing through texts and emails and hypothetically, potential charges I’ve heard mentioned are, inciting violence, terroristic threats and risking a catastrophe to start with. And it doesn’t end with those close to the shooter, locally we have members of broadcasting media being closely looked at who have relentlessly with malice and cruel intent fueled the ire of an obviously unstable individual.”
“Clay, what is your involvement in the litigation of all this?’
“I can’t touch it of course. I’m an eyewitness to an attempted murder and have recused myself from the investigation completely. I’m here to support my wife. She has been wrongly represented publicly when she is a courageous survivor of domestic violence. But know this, if no criminal charges ever come to light, there is always civil action and in that I can name anyone.” I said quietly.
“Sounds like your hands are tied, what can you do?” Kelly asked.
“Miss Parks, I do what I do. Prosecute criminals, I have a full docket of trials approaching and the good people of Beaufort expect me to get those offenders off the streets and direct their day in court. Not to be a vigilante for my immediate family. My wife has asked for there not to be any further engagement with these people. She feels they have suffered enough with the mental illness of their son and the disgrace and shame he has brought upon them. Aubrey thinks enough is enough, no more people should be hurt.”
“Is that how you feel?” she asked, baiting me.
“Miss Parks, I’m madly and deeply in love with my wife.” I paused, smiling happily, tears welled in my eyes.
“God blessed us with a miracle when we found each other and granted another one when I got to keep her. I’m following her lead, I can’t ask God for another thing, not after what he’s given us. There is enough crime in this county that requires my attention. My Momma used to say, ‘empty barrels make the most noise’ and that seems to be true the last few months. The loudest disturbance around my Aubrey rattles like a shrill, failed pageant contestant who can’t organize an intelligent thought much less a news story. It’s pathetic, to kick an injured woman while she’s fighting for her life is petty and unforgivable and something I will not soon forget,” I said darkly.
“Clay are you preparing for the Trevino case currently, it appears as if the charges keep accumulating of embezzlement, misappropriation and fraud from the firm?”
“Our team is rooted in trial prep, after the grand jury handed out the indictments we went to work. Hundreds of hours of depositions and forensic accounting. We present our case at the end of the month, so yes, we are ensconced in the preparations. This one won’t be as sexy as the Nadler case. No international press coverage, but it’s personal for us, we want those folks who were robbed so heartlessly to have their due.”
“Thank you for your time today, Mr. Hoover. We’re all so relieved your wife is improving and that you’re back behind your desk to keep up the good work you are so well known for,”
She cut the recording. And gathered up her notes.
She looked over at me and smiled, “Thank you Clay, I’ve been waiting a long time to slice her throat, thank you for handing me the knife.”
I shrugged my shoulders, “Don’t know what you mean, Miss Parks. It was long past time you got your shot at a story. I won’t make you wait this long again. Thank you.”
She shook my hand and walked toward the door.
“Clay, off the record. Has Aubrey been brought in to the USC Co-Ed investigation?”
I stared up at her, “Off the record?”
She held her hand on her heart. “Yes, I swear,”
“She has indeed.” I confirmed.
“Clay, can I interview her if she breaks it? Just me?” I sat back in my chair and chuckled, fiddling with my tie.
“She doesn’t like the limelight, she wants to be invisible. Do her job from the shadows, but I will promise to ask her and advocate on your behalf.”
Kelly Parks broke out into a beautiful smile. “Thanks Clay, I appreciate that. Have a good day,”