“Wait, Barbara, I think there’s been a misunderstanding here.”
“You didn’t spend the night with Riggs Daley to win the competition?”
“No. Well, yes. I mean, I spent the night with him, but I swear I didn’t know who he was before had. And he approached me, not the other way around. In fact, I think he’s purposefully sabotaging the competition so that Michael Monroe can win.”
“Why would you think that?” she asks.
“Well, they are friends for one.”
Silence.
Making me feel the need to add more words to fill it.
“And I think he was trying to find out my plans so he could sabotage my entry.”
“I see. And so what did you tell this stranger whose last name you did not know about your competition plans when you went back to his hotel room to have sexual relations?”
“Nothing.”
“So how was he to gather the information necessary to sabotage you?”
“I don’t know. This was his plan, not mine. I’m just saying it’s way too convenient that he sought me out, of all the women in the bar,andthat he’s friends with Michaelandhe’s the judge.”
“All true,” Barbara concedes. “But still not as convincing as you knowing who he was before going back to his room with him. I’m sorry, Morgan. But my decision has to be final.”
“Someone is setting me up,” I cry.
“Who?” She sighs. I’m pretty sure I see her eyes roll.
“Michael and Blondie. I saw her this morning in the elevator after I left Riggs’ room. She zipped up my dress.”
“I’m not sure whoBlondieis, but you’re saying she saw you coming out of Riggs’ room and offered to zip up your dress.”
“Yes.”
“So you admit to everything except for your intention in sleeping with Riggs Daley?”
“Yes.”
“Morgan, surely you can see this from my perspective? You claim to receive and read the email publications from WCWA. Yet somehow you missed the one announcing Riggs as a judge which featured his name and photograph. Then you meet a man named Riggs in a bar that is in the same hotel as the competition the day before the festivities are to begin.”
She pauses a moment. I don’t like where this is going. Not that it isn’t true, it is. But the way she’s describing it makes me sound way too guilty.
“You don’t ask for his last name or his occupation before agreeing to go to his hotel room and spend the night with him. The next morning you’re caught by someone you later find out is involved with your competition, and now suddenly they are out to get you.”
Okay, I get how she thinks I’m guilty, but Michael is behind this, I’m sure of it.
“Barbara, I know how this must look, but I swear I’m telling the truth.” I search her face for some semblance of acceptance but find nothing. Tears well in my eyes.
Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.
“Rest assured we won’t be pressing charges—”
“Charges?! For what? I haven’t done anything wrong. This is ridiculous. You have to—”
“Result tampering is a serious offense.”
“Ohmigod! They can arrest me for that?”
