Kiss the Girls and Make Them Cry(36)

Carter didn’t bother to correct him on the last name.

Matthews extended his hand. “Nice to meet you, Michael. Have a seat.”

Sherman was signaling the waitress. “Marlene, bring us three coffees in travel cups.”

“We can’t talk here?” Matthews asked, gesturing at the almost empty room.

“You know the old expression. The walls have ears,” Sherman replied.

Marlene returned with the cups. Sherman stood up. “Follow me,” he said as he began to walk away.

“I guess we should humor him,” Matthews said to Carter as he got up, flashing the smile that viewers found so appealing.

Carter glanced at the waitress and then over at the gin game. If they had any idea what was going to happen to the club’s most prominent member, no one let on.

Sherman led them down a narrow hallway. Framed black-and-white photos of golfers and holes lined the walls. The CEO turned left into a room with several dark leather couches and overstuffed chairs opposite a fireplace. The head of an elk unhappily stared down on the setting, a reminder of the role hunting played in the early days of the club. “We can talk here,” Sherman said, as he settled himself into a chair. Carter waited until Matthews sat down, so he could choose a seat opposite him.

“Michael, I think I know why we’re here,” Matthews began.

Carter and Sherman exchanged surprised looks. Matthews continued before they could respond.

“When I closed the broadcast on Friday, I talked about the many great people who work at REL News, what a wonderful organization it is, and how proud I am to be one of its leaders. I’ve always been a news guy. I never worked in the business world per se. I know when the company’s considering an IPO, you’re not supposed to say anything. If I violated a rule, I apologize. But I assure you, my heart was in the right place.”

His speech was followed by what the New York Post liked to refer to as the anchorman’s ten-thousand-watt smile. The smile lingered for a few seconds, as it did at the end of every broadcast. It was as if Matthews were waiting for a producer behind the camera to count down to when he could shut it off.

Sherman was silent. It was clear that he preferred to be the spectator.

“Mr. Matthews,” Carter began, “I’m here to talk to you about the IPO and how valuable you have been and continue to be at REL News. It would not be the same company without you.”

“If you’re worried about my retiring, don’t. If it’s my health, I just saw my doctor and—”

“Frankly, Mr. Matthews, I couldn’t care less about what your doctor said. That’s not why we’re here.”

Matthews turned to Sherman. “Who does he think he is, talking to me like that? What the hell’s going on here?” He started to get up.

Carter stood up opposite him and said in a raised voice, “Matthews, if you don’t want to spend the rest of your life drinking beer and playing golf with Bill O’Reilly, Matt Lauer, and Charlie Rose, sit down and shut up!”

Matthews looked stunned. Sherman pointed to the anchorman’s chair. “Brad, please, you have to hear him out.” Matthews glared at Carter as he sat back down.

Carter, back in his chair, kept his eyes on Matthews as he reached to the table in front of him and picked up his coffee cup. He took a long sip and slowly returned the cup to the table, relishing the opportunity to make Matthews sweat. It was abundantly clear who was in charge of the meeting.

“Do you know the meaning of the term ‘sexual abuse’?”

“Don’t insult my intelligence.”

“I’ll take that as a yes. But let’s make sure we’re all on the same page. The American Psychological Association defines it as ‘unwanted sexual activity, with perpetrators using force, making threats, or taking advantage of victims not able to give consent.’?”

“Don’t lecture me!”

“Did you understand the definition I just shared with you?”

“Get to your point, Carton!”

“Four women have come forward and credibly accused you of making unwanted sexual advances.”

Sherman looked at him, clearly surprised to hear there were four.

“I have never in my life acted inappropriately toward a woman. I have received numerous awards from women’s organizations—” Matthews blustered.

“Spare me your press clippings. I assure you nobody cares about what a great guy you think you are.”

“I don’t know who you are, mister, but I assure you I’m at the end of my patience. I never—”

“Do you know a woman named Lauren Pomerantz?” Carter asked, reaching for his coffee cup.

Matthews flinched slightly as he turned toward the fireplace. “That name sounds familiar, but I can’t be sure.”

It was difficult for even good liars to maintain eye contact when telling lies, Carter thought. He decided to let Matthews finish.

“REL News has grown so large over the past years. I try, but I can’t remember the names of everybody in the News Division. Lauren, what did you say her last name was?”

“Pomerantz. Should I spell it for you?”

Keeping his eyes on Matthews, Carter reached into the vest pocket of his sports jacket, retrieved his phone, and laid it on the table. “I know I’m violating the cell phone policy of the august Greenwich Country Club,” he said, “but I’m sure that under these unusual circumstances, they’ll cut me a little slack. Last chance, Matthews, did an encounter between you and Pomerantz take place in your office?”