Kiss the Girls and Make Them Cry(23)

“And you—?”

“What was I supposed to say? Of course, I said yes. He said something about the two of us being friends. I didn’t answer. Then he walked over to the window and looked out. He told me he never got tired of looking at the beautiful view of the East River. He pointed at something and waved for me to come over to where he was standing.”

Lauren’s eyes again filled with tears. To give her time to collect herself, Carter got up, went behind his desk, and brought out two bottles of water. She accepted one, twisted it open, and took a sip.

“So you stood next to him by the window—”

“I looked out to see what he was pointing at. All of a sudden he stepped behind me with his hands on either side of me. Then his fingers were on my forehead, then going down my face.” Her breathing quickened as she tried to maintain control. “I could feel him rubbing against me from behind. His hand went down my neck, under my blouse, onto my breasts.”

“Did you ask him to stop?”

“I was afraid at first. Then I said, ‘What are you doing?’?”

“He said, ‘I’m being your friend.’ And then he licked my neck all the way up the side to my head,” she said with a grimace.

Carter was mesmerized. Brad Matthews was the Walter Cronkite of his generation. Some polls identified him as the most trusted man in America. If what he was hearing was true, this would be a bombshell. But it was a big if.

“I’m sorry to make you relive this,” he said, “but I have to know everything that happened.”

“He started to lick me a second time when the phone on his desk rang.”

“Did he take the call?”

“He acted like nothing had happened. He left me, went over, and picked up the phone. It was Senator McConnell on the line. His first words were, ‘Hey Mitch, what’s up?’?”

“Did he ask you to stay or to leave?”

“He never even made eye contact. It was as if I was never there. I just walked out of the office. He waved as I left.”

Carter remained silent for several seconds. Lauren stared at him and said, “Tell me, Mr. Carter, do you believe me?”

He exhaled. If he’d been at liberty to answer honestly, he’d have said, No, I don’t. I think you’re full of crap. But I give you credit for having a very fertile imagination. You’re trying to make a name for yourself by making an accusation against one of the most trusted men in America. But he couldn’t say that.

“Ms. Pomerantz, I’ll be honest with you. What I believe doesn’t matter. It’s my job to take what you are saying seriously. What you allege happened between you and Mr. Matthews, by your own account, took place behind closed doors. There were no other witnesses. He is entitled to give his version of events. Reputations are at stake—”

“Reputations,” she sneered. “Is that your way of telling me that nobody will believe me over him?”

“Lauren, I didn’t say that—”

“You didn’t have to. You sent the message without saying it.”

“Do you have any evidence to support your account? Any emails, text messages between you and Mr. Matthews?”

“I’ve got something even better than that, Mr. Carter.” She took out her iPhone and tapped it a few times. After a few seconds, Brad Matthews’s distinctive baritone voice was heard saying, “Lauren, come in, have a seat.” For the next several minutes Carter listened as the recording confirmed what Pomerantz had described.

“Do you make it a habit to tape your conversations?” he asked.

“Only when I have a good reason.”

“Are you taping this conversation?”

“No, should I be?”

“What was your ‘good reason’ to tape your,” he paused to find the right word, “visit to Mr. Matthews’s office?”

“It wasn’t a visit. I was an employee who was called to a meeting by a superior. I’d call that a summons. As for my reason to tape, women talk, Mr. Carter. They talk to each other about how they’re treated, particularly by the men they work for and with.”

Carter stared at Lauren. She was formidable. And tough. And smart. She had to know that any prestigious law firm would salivate to have her as a client and bask in the publicity that would result from taking down Brad Matthews. But she was here talking to him. Why?

“Lauren, I assure you REL News will take your complaint seriously. There’s a process—”

“No, it won’t.”

“Please, Lauren. I’ve known about this for fifteen minutes and you’re already concluding I won’t do anything.”

“You’re not the first person I spoke to.”

“I’m not?”

“The day after it happened I went to somebody who I was sure would have the guts and the clout to do something about it. Nothing happened. When I called him a week later to ask what was going on, his first question was ‘Do you like working here?’ He told me I should focus on doing my job.”

“Who did you speak to?”

“Frederick Carlyle, Jr.”

Carter sat back in his chair. The son of the company founder was a rising executive. Although he was only forty-five, some believed he would be tapped to one day succeed the CEO, Dick Sherman. Two high-level careers were on the line. And possibly a third potentially high-level career if he played this right.