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As she sat down, I handed her my business card, held out my hand to her, and said, "I'm James. Please call me Jim. What brought you here on this stormy night?" Shaking my hand, she answered, "My name is Damini. In India that means lightning. I'm going to visit family in Atlanta. I have a cousin who is getting married down there in a few days. Why are you here?" Thus, started a long evening of conversation between a beautifully petite, twenty-three-year-old Indian girl and a man old enough to be her father. Damini was soon feeling much more comfortable about spending time with a stranger. She began to open herself up to me. She had been born in New Jersey, but her family had clung to their traditional Indian culture. They had kept tight control over her. Even when she had attended an out of town college as a resident student, she had been required to go home every weekend. I found Damini fascinatingly different, and I enjoyed listening to her. Her dinner arrived, and Damini agreed. Promptly at 8:00 she call Sara and Joan into her office. Sara asks how was her picnic, what did he feed her, did they have sex, Joan says Sara look at her hand, Sara says what why HOLEY SHIT THAT’S HUGE, Wendy brags so is he, as Sara grabs her hand and the girls examine the ring. Wendy says Joan google Daren Davis, she says damn he’s rich and shit he’s our boss!Over the next three months their life is like a fairytale, by their wedding day they had been living together full time for two weeks, There is a huge tent set up on the beach for the reception, they are married on the beach at 3:00 in the afternoon and they party long into the night, Chuck’s wife tells Wendy how beatiful she looks and how happy she has made Daren, the girls Sara and Joan are all over Wendy attending her but mostly feeding her drinks, Jeff, Joe and Pete, Wendy’s old friends and fuck buddies are there steady feeding Daren booze, they want Wendy back and have a plain to get Daren drunk and passed out and fuck.
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Two Thursdays before that, the morning of the 3rd, I was in the Westminster Field Office, meeting with Cheryl and the rest of the staff. Mid-morning, who walked in but Fletcher Donaldson. Fletcher was still with the Baltimore Sun, and was now their senior political correspondent, with both bylined articles and an opinion column that was on the verge of being syndicated. He ignored the protesting intern who tried to bar my open door and stuck his head around the corner. “Carl, you want to call off your attack dog here?”I snorted and waved him in. “Fletcher, you are rude, crude, and socially unacceptable!”“My mother would agree with you. Let’s talk.”I rolled my eyes at that, and said, “I’m sure I have an appointment. Let me call in and make one!” I brandished my cell phone and mimed making a phone call.Fletcher ignored this as well and sat down across from me. He leaned back in his chair and threw his feet up on my desk. “So, Carl, you want to tell me about your pissing match with.

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