by Sara Celi
I woke the next morning about five minutes before my usual alarm. We didn’t have anything on the schedule until eight thirty but I’d planned on working out and getting a head start on the constant emails, the pile of which grew larger with every passing day.
Instead, I turned on the light and stared at Patrick for a long time. He slept fitfully, turning, twisting, and frowning as he dreamed. I shook him a few times, but he didn’t stir until I turned on the TV.
“What time is it?” he asked in a sleep-coated voice. Seeing CNN’s morning show on the screen, he straightened up in bed.
“Around five.”
“What are they saying? Anything important?”
“Nothing about you.”
“Good, I guess.” Patrick stretched and yawned. “I didn’t plan on waking up here.”
We kissed.
“You probably need to head back to your room before someone notices,” I said.
He nodded and turned his attention back to the TV, which currently showed a countdown to the South Carolina debate. “I’m not ready for that at all.”
“Of course you are. The key to the whole thing is just to be yourself. And besides, we have debate prep scheduled for tonight from seven to nine.” I got up from bed and wandered over to the bathroom vanity, where I plugged in my hair straightener. As I did, I watched him in the mirror. I wanted to savor these small moments with Patrick. Everything about it seemed so natural.
I liked having him in my room. I liked waking up next to him. I liked seeing him unfiltered and unpolished.
He didn’t show those sides to very many people.
“Our first event is a breakfast with the Junior League of Columbia,” I said to him as I walked back into the suite’s main room. “Coffee and croissants. All of the candidates will be there asking questions.”
“Never met a Junior Leaguer I didn’t like.”
I smiled. “I’m sure.” My attention turned to Patrick’s still naked body, wrapped from the waist down in a large section of the sheet. “Do you plan on going like that?”
He looked down and grinned. “Of course. Thought I’d win them over like this. You know how those socialites are. They love a naked guy, even if they don’t want to admit it.”
“Well, they’ll love that naked guy even more if he shows up wearing a suit.” I walked past him, took my phone off the charger, and checked my email. “Oh, my god.”
What I saw made me drop the phone.
“What? What is it, Alex?”
“You got it,” I squealed. “You got the endorsement!”
Alex handed me her phone and I read the email, one sent from Dwight Jameson himself, right around midnight. Not only would he endorse my candidacy, but he wanted to appear with me during my lunchtime visit to Oliver’s Diner, a small joint somewhere in between Columbia and Spartanburg known for sweet barbeque and milky cornbread.
“Do you know what this means?” I asked, looking from the phone, to her, and back again. “We’re going to control the news cycle. This is major. He’s one of the most respected senators in office right now, and everyone will want a piece of this.”
Alex nodded and took the phone from me. “I’ll get started on the press release, and we can leak a few hints to some of the reporters we trust. I owe Janet from MSNBC a favor. What if I text her?” Alex sat in the office chair, and within the course of three sentences, her usual “all business” demeanor had returned.
“No, don’t text her yet.” I moved around the room, picking up the rest of my clothes and belongings. “Wait until we’re at the Junior League. More punch that way.” I put on my shirt and pulled on my underwear. “Like I said last night, I got this because of you. Because of what you said. You did this.”
“I’m sure it’s also because of Howard Sayers. Dwight doesn’t like him.” Alex wrinkled her nose. “I’m still concerned about the polls. We’re not rising as fast as I would like.”
“Forget the polls. The voters in South Carolina don’t know Howard Sayers. I do. I’ll destroy him at the debate.”
“Promise?”
I yanked on my slacks and buttoned them, then decided to forgo tucking in the shirt. It was only a short walk from Alex’s room to mine. Wouldn’t hurt. “You’re talking to an Ohio high school state debate champion, four years straight.” I winked at her. “Nobody debates like me, honey.”
She cleared her throat. “I’ll have to remember that. And you need to make sure you brush up on our opposition research before it, okay? Howard is going to bring a lot of things your way. You have to be ready.”
“That starts today.” I walked over and kissed her on the lips. “Thank you.” I kissed her again. “I mean it.”
“You’re welcome.”
I let myself take another long look at her, half-naked, beautiful, and focused. Alexandra Jones. The best thing that had happened to my campaign and my life since—
Since Kathryn. Damn it. Kathryn Van der Loon and the Van der Loon billions. I shook my head. What had I gotten myself into?
Oliver’s Diner was the kind of place that only got attention during election years. It sat just off Interstate 26, next to a small gas station and across from a Cracker Barrel restaurant. The sign said it had been in business since 1949; it looked as if it hadn’t been renovated since then. Still, the parking lot had enough space for our campaign bus, and the owner liked the attention.
So there we were.
“Who wants more grits?” asked Judith, the diner’s assistant manager. She held up a small white plate. “They’ve got plenty of cheese on ‘em.”
Heather took the plate and placed it in front of Patrick, who chewed his second bite of an overstuffed, pulled-pork sandwich. The diner staff seemed intent on making sure he tried something of everything on the menu, and around him, a small tableau of reporters, voters, supporters, and curious South Carolinians also enjoyed the huge spread the restaurant provided to welcome Patrick to the state’s northwest corridor.
“Mr. Blanco, what do you think about Governor Sayer’s plan to provide free college tuition to America’s high school students?” called a blonde reporter from CNN. “Do you have a response?”
I glared at her. We’d told the media not to ask questions until after lunch, so I signaled one of our interns, who moved in with official-looking credentials and a loud voice.
“Mr. Blanco will be taking questions after he’s enjoyed the diner’s wonderful hospitality,” the intern said to the reporters before turning to the rest of the media. “Please, hold your questions until then.”
“It’s all right. I’ll answer.”
Patrick wiped his mouth with a red napkin and stood from the lunch counter stool he’d occupied for the previous twenty minutes. “I think Governor Sayers has some good ideas, but unfortunately they aren’t sustainable. We all agree that education after high school is critical for today’s students, but we need to understand that a four-year state university is not for everyone. We need to nurture job skill and vocational training, too. That’s why I’m proposing universal vocational school and community college availability, as well as a tiered-out system for high school students who want to continue on, or are ready for a four-year university.”
As Patrick spoke, he made eye contact with the voters, assuring he drove home every word. “We need to reward those students who do well in high school, but also make sure that we provide opportunities for everyone.”
I glanced around the crowd, measuring reactions. A few nodded, one took notes, and a few more remained stone-faced. Man, the voters in South Carolina could be tough.
“Does anyone else have questions?” Patrick smiled as a few people laughed in the crowd. “That’s what we’re here for, right?”
No one responded.
He turned back to the cooks and servers standing on the other side of the counter. “You know, during a campaign as grueling as this one, I’m only happy that we’ve been given the chance to enjoy this wonderful restaurant in the middle of it a
ll.” He tapped the counter twice. “All the reviews are right. This is, by far, the best pulled pork and brisket in the state.”
I raised an eyebrow, pretty sure Patrick hadn’t eaten any other barbeque in South Carolina in his whole life. Still, he had a way of making everything sound so sincere. If Patrick said something was great, it had to be. If he liked it, you’d like it, too. Simple as that.
“Any other questions?” he asked, turning back to the crowd.
A few shouted some, and my stomach twisted. This impromptu press conference wasn’t part of the schedule, and if there was one thing I disliked about Patrick, it was his willingness to deviate from our plan. He always insisted it sounded more authentic and real that way, as if he was a man of the people instead of an elected official.
“How are we going to do this rollout?” Doug whispered in my ear. “Dwight is waiting in the back, and this lighting is terrible in here.”
“We’re supposed to be outside; it will look better out there,” I said through gritted teeth. “But as you can see…”
“Let Patrick be Patrick. I’ll handle this.” Doug shot me a half-hearted grin. He raised his hand as Patrick answered the final question. “Everyone, if we could move outside for a moment, we’ll be taking press questions there, and our campaign has a major announcement. We also have some wonderful items for anyone to take home to show their support for the coalition Patrick is building.”
“Actually,” Patrick said. “I believe I’d rather stay inside. It’s a little chilly, so Doug, let’s do this here.”
Patrick gave us both a polite nod and turned on his heel, strode behind the lunch counter, and then disappeared through the kitchen door. A murmur tore through the crowd, and when Patrick reemerged, he walked next to Dwight, a hand on his shoulder. A few people gasped, and more than one of the reporters in the crowd perked up at the sight of South Carolina’s most famous lawmaker.
“One of the people who raved about Oliver’s Diner is my friend, Senator Dwight Jameson.” Patrick commanded the crowd once again. “He told me that a tour of the Palmetto state wasn’t complete without a stop here. I knew I had to visit, but that I didn’t want to visit without him. And I’m happy to say that Senator Jameson and I have a deep, deep friendship, one that goes beyond the halls of Congress.”
Patrick gestured to Dwight, who cleared his throat.
“As you know, I don’t make many endorsements,” Dwight said in his slow southern accent. “I pride myself on being a gentleman, and I like to let the people decide for themselves.” He clapped Patrick on his shoulder. “But this is a fight I cannot ignore, because this election is too important for the people of South Carolina and the rest of our nation. We must have real, hopeful leadership to get through these hard times.”
This was going well. Very well. Even the most stoic journalists in the room seemed moved by the seeming sincerity of Dwight’s words.
“That’s why I am proud to support Senator Blanco’s campaign for president, and I am prepared to throw the full weight of my support behind him. Senator Blanco is our future, and we all need to step forward.”
“I’m honored to have your support,” Patrick said, and shook Dwight’s hand as the gathering burst into spontaneous applause. The crowd was with him, the national media seemed pleased, and Oliver’s Diner had its moment. Hell, if Patrick won the presidency, the joint might even claim a spot in election lore.
I tugged on Doug’s suit jacket and he turned to me. “Howard Sayers who?” I whispered.
“Exactly,” Doug said. “Just what we want.”
“Okay,” Doug said later that night in the hotel conference room. “Turning to foreign policy. Senator Blanco, you’ve served on the Senate Armed Services Committee. Tell us…what is your assessment of the growing threat of North Korean nuclear weapons?”
“Well, that is a very complicated question.” Patrick smiled at Doug from behind the mock podium set up in the front of the room. “Can we talk about it over pizza? Maybe a beer?”
Doug, Heather, and I laughed. We were well into the second hour of debate prep, and while all of us were exhausted, Doug had insisted on pushing ahead with questions.
“Fine.” Doug threw up his hands in mock surrender. “I give up. We can take a break. We’ve all had a very long day.”
“Good, because I need a glass of wine and a hot bath.” Heather stood from the hardback conference room chair she’d occupied for most of the last two hours. “Nothing on the schedule for tomorrow until the debate. Just rest, relaxation, and study.”
Patrick gave her a mock salute. “You’ve got it, General.”
“You gave some great answers,” I said, standing up as well. “I don’t think they’ll be able to trip you up as long as you stick to your major talking points and keep yourself calm.”
“Calm is my middle name.”
“I’m going to look-up a few articles tonight,” Doug said, as he stretched. “Something doesn’t sit right with me, so look for an email in the morning.” He turned toward Heather and me. “Shall we?”
We nodded and gathered up our things, each of us saying goodnight to Patrick.
“I think I’d like to spend a few more minutes studying the debate-prep binder.” Patrick winked at me when Heather and Doug turned their backs on us. Something fluttered in my chest and tightened in my lower belly. “After all, an intern spent a grueling two days putting it together.”
The three of us had almost left the room by the time Patrick called out to me. “Alex, if you don’t mind staying behind, I just thought of something we need to look over one more time.”
“Of course.” My cheeks warmed and I averted my gaze, glancing toward Doug and Heather. “Goodnight guys, I’ll talk to you all tomorrow morning.”
I closed the door behind them and then waited about thirty seconds before I crossed the room and met him near the podium. In those seconds, the air between us changed. It had a magnetism, a charge.
“What do you need?” I asked in a low voice, guessing full well he didn’t need a damn thing.
“I’m a little…stressed,” he said. “It’s been a long day, and we have an even bigger one tomorrow.”
“What you need is a good night’s sleep.”
“Maybe.” His tone deepened with a raspy edge. “But I can think of other things I want.”
I glanced at the door, then back at him with a raised eyebrow. “And what’s that?”
Patrick dropped the binder, gripped my upper arms, and slammed his mouth into mine, kissing me for the first time that day. Hunger and a need for him overtook me when he pressed his body flush to mine. “Damn it,” he murmured. “You are so fucking gorgeous.”
I kissed him back, of course. No question about that. Just like every other time, I couldn’t have resisted him if I’d tried.
“Now,” he whispered as our embrace deepened. “I want you now.”
He picked me up, carried me over to the large conference table, and laid me on top of it. He kissed me again and I opened up to him, not caring that we weren’t in the hotel room, not really thinking about anything at all.
Just Patrick.
“I’m going to fuck you. Right now.” His mouth moved down my jawline and across my throat, then along the soft edge of my cashmere cardigan. “On this table.” He punctuated his words with kisses on my collarbone. “Right now.”
“What if someone walks in?”
He moved his lips to my ear. “Then you’re going to have to be quiet, Alex, so no one can hear you.” Patrick pulled me closer. “Do you think you can do that?”
“Yes.” I moaned, closing my eyes and allowing the intensity of emotions to pour over the two of us like a tidal wave. “Whatever you want. Anything you want.”
Patrick drew the sweater up and over the swell of my breasts. “What I want is you. Wet. Ready for me. Only me.”
“Only you.”
I raised up and took off the sweater, then followed it with my bra. Both landed somewhere furthe
r down the conference table, and I barely noticed as I hiked up my black suede skirt, revealing a pair of blue lace underwear. “Do you want me naked?”
Patrick shook his head. “I want you like this. Lie back.”
Following his command, I relaxed onto the table. I closed my eyes as he bunched my skirt around my waist, then slipped my underwear down over my hips and past my knees.
“You’ve been a good girl lately,” he said before he kissed me again. “Very good. I want to please you the way that you’ve pleased me.”
Patrick raised up and spread my legs apart. His mouth found the apex of my thighs and he teased me with his tongue, tasting me. Pleasure washed over me, and I begged him for more as he took me to places with his mouth I hadn’t been in a long time. He drew his tongue in and out of me, and I gave myself over to him.
Until I heard the conference door click open.
“What’s going on?”
Kathryn walked a few steps into the room and crossed her arms as we scrambled to straighten up, and I grappled for my clothes.
“Probably a question I know the answer to,” she said as Patrick and I struggled to give her a response. I’d never been so mortified, and a hot surge of embarrassment pulsed through my body.
She sized me up and arched her eyebrow. “So this is the new flavor?” Kathryn directed all her attention and questions to Patrick. “I thought you’d be more creative than this, Patrick. A staffer on the campaign? Really?”
“Kathryn, I…” Patrick glanced from her to me and back again. “It’s not…”
“What?” Kathryn stalked closer to us. “Not what I think? Not what I should expect? Not a big deal? I know about what happened with that other girl on your staff—”
“Things got out of hand,” I said as I put on my sweater. “That’s all. Nothing more.”
“You don’t have to make excuses, sweetie.” Kathryn laughed to herself. “I just hope he’s told you the truth.”
“He has.” I glanced over at Patrick, who cleared his throat.
“She knows this is an arrangement. She’s aware.”
