My head landed on the counter. Into the surface, I mumbled, “I have no idea. Pole is the only thing I’ve wanted to do for years. I love it. I’m good at it.”
“And what about Daniel?”
“We’re over,” I moaned. “He doesn’t like me the way I am.”
“I’m not sure that’s true. Do you care about each other?”
When we’d been arguing, Daniel said the words, but I hadn’t responded. Now he’d never know. I sniffled. “I do. I can’t believe I fell so fast, but I did.”
“Does he care about you?”
“He says he loves me.” The memory made me smile for what felt like the first time in weeks.
“Then don’t count yourself out yet. Do you want to be with him, whether you win the election or not?”
I considered her question. When we’d met, I’d liked Daniel instantly. There had been a connection. We chatted easily, I loved bantering with him, and—until our argument after the debate—I felt more centered when he was around. Something about his inner strength and self-possession calmed me. Not to mention that kiss. Oh, man.
Yes, he tried to change me. But he was helping me get the job we both thought I wanted. Right or wrong, I wouldn’t have garnered even the sliver of support I got without that help. We both made some bad choices, but I still cared about him.
“You know…” I took a deep breath. “I do. Despite everything, he’s worth it.”
“Then I think you just need some time to clear your head. We’ll figure something out, but sitting and staring at your phone isn’t the answer. Come on.”
Confused, I lifted my head and studied her. “You know I can take my phone with me, right? It’s portable.”
“Not where we’re going.”
Her words made me nervous, but I listened with half an ear as I followed her to the car. She chatted about stuff that didn’t matter. None of it stayed with me. When we finally pulled into the parking lot of the mall, stopping near the movie theater, I laughed. Lana had found the one place I wouldn’t use my phone. People who texted—or worse, made calls—in the theater made me want to climb over the seats to yank their devices away. Instead, I turned my phone off and put it into Lana’s waiting hand before we got out of the car.
The darkness numbed my brain for the two hours, twenty-seven minutes it took for us to watch the latest teen comedy and roughly fourteen previews. I didn’t know what we were watching, but it didn’t matter. I ate from a bucket of popcorn as big as my torso and tried not to think.
Unfortunately, that pleasant lack of emotion wore off the second we left the theater and spotted Erica, talking to some guy in a hoodie next to a table in the adjacent food court.
What on earth was she doing here? Was she following me? No, that didn’t make any sense.
Lana grabbed the back of my shirt and pulled me behind a post that separated the movie theater from the dining area. I tried to pull away, but she held firm. Silently, I cursed myself for all the hours spent teaching her to improve her grip.
“What are you doing? I don’t need to hide from Erica.”
“You don’t?” Lana dragged me against the wall. I couldn’t see Erica but she wouldn’t see us, either. “You don’t think it’s a little weird that she just happened to be here?”
To be honest, the way the campaign was going, I didn’t blame Erica from ditching work to hit the mall. Especially not when I’d done the same thing. “I don’t know, maybe she’s going to a movie. Like everyone else here.”
“The woman who has been subtly undermining you every chance she gets—despite being employed to help you—happens to be hanging out at the mall food court the day before the election? Right after you had a huge public meltdown? Why isn’t she at campaign headquarters, doing damage control? After all, she still works for you.”
“Maybe she’s campaigning?” What did it even matter, anymore?
Lana snorted. “No way. She’s up to something. For one thing, that guy looks familiar.”
My poor friend must be bored out of her mind to be seeing conspiracy theories. “There have to be a thousand guys in the area who wear hoodies. Heck, I’m wearing a hoodie right now.”
“True. So am I.” Lana pulled her hood up and slipped on her sunglasses, then motioned for me to do the same.
“This is ridiculous,” I said, but followed her lead.
“Shut up. We’re going to see what she’s doing. Act natural.”
Together, we strolled out of the theater, circling toward the restroom, following the crowd. Erica still stood talking to someone we couldn’t see. Lana was right. Something about the man did seem familiar. I pretended to be looking at the poster behind them when the man looked around. Then he reached into his pocket, withdrew a large, flat envelope, and set it on the table while she studied her phone. He walked over to a stand selling subs. A moment later, Erica casually picked up the envelope. She slid it into her purse, eyes still glued to her phone, then walked away without looking at him.
Lana and I followed, an unspoken agreement passing between us. Something was wrong about all of this. We needed to know what she was up to.
Erica was short. Very short. Meaning we lost her as she moved among the sea of SUVs in the movie theater parking lot while trying to look casual and not stray too far from Lana’s car. There was a reason I’d gone into pole fitness instruction and not P.I. work. Even having been in her car didn’t help. It could’ve been anywhere.
Lana cursed under her breath when we realized we couldn’t find Erica anywhere. I started to do the same when the swinging glass doors caught my attention. The guy in the hoodie emerged into the sunlight. Unless we split up, Lana and I couldn’t follow both him and Erica, but maybe we could at least figure out who this guy was and why he was secretly passing envelopes to my campaign manager.
“Look! It’s him.”
“Great. Maybe we can lose him in the parking lot, too. We suck at this.” She grumbled. “You’re too tall. Can’t you slouch a little?”
Our quarry turned and walked toward the bus stop. I took off after him, Lana half a step behind. The Capital District wasn’t exactly a public transportation hub, so the guy would probably spot us within about four seconds of arriving at the bus stop, but I’d worry about that when it happened. Maybe if I spoke to him, I’d know why he seemed familiar.
The bus pulled to a stop just as we reached the curb. When the guy climbed up the steps, I tried for a peek at hair sticking out of his hoodie, but no luck. Before I could wonder what to do next, Lana hopped on board, so I followed. Shoulders hunched, we stared at the ground and shuffled down the aisle, sitting near the back. Hoodie sat a few rows up, on the left.
The hood of his sweatshirt fell to his shoulders, and I gasped softly. Lana’s hand gripped mine, a silent reminder to keep quiet. Or maybe she wanted to stop me from getting out of my seat. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. No wonder the man seemed so familiar. I knew him.
The man sitting not fifteen feet away, the man who’d just had a clandestine meeting with the woman who was slowly making my life as miserable as possible wasn’t a total stranger, as I’d expected. I knew him.
He worked for the Saratoga Dispatch. Jerry Braithwaite. The guy who did my original candidate profile, at Erica’s suggestion. The one who approached and snapped pictures of me barely dressed at seven a.m. He posted the old instructional videos, which I’d completely forgotten about. He must be the one who took the pictures of me in the park. Everything that happened, all the public outrage, stemmed from his articles.
Jerry’s stories that tanked my numbers in the polls every time I started to pick up some traction. Now I knew why the media didn’t follow Curtis around all the time. It wasn’t that I was more interesting, like Daniel thought. Jerry had been working with my Communications Director to sabotage my campaign.
CHAPTER 23
Cupid: Sadly, this move neither comes with a bow and arrow nor brings a promise
of true love. However, once I finally managed to nail it, I felt like the angels smiled upon me.
- Push and Pole Fitness Tutorials, Vol. 3
A shockwave ripped through me at the depth of Erica’s betrayal. She knew everything about me, the campaign, our strategy. She looked down on me. That had been obvious from early on. More than once, I’d questioned her politics, but I’d been assured that she worked for the joy of winning (and the love of money), not for either party. I’d never thought she would throw me under the bus. I couldn’t believe it.
At least I finally understood why she stuck around. Suddenly, it all made sense: The familiar-looking older woman who Erica had been talking to at the mall. She hadn’t been asking for directions to the restroom. Now it seemed clear as day that Erica had been chatting with Mrs. Baker. Whether a planned meeting or just a coincidence, I may never know, but the two of them definitely knew each other.
Erica knew I’d started running in the evenings. She knew there was a playground nearby, and if she’d done any research on polers, she’d know that we loved to hang off things in public. It would’ve been easy enough to have a reporter follow me. She must’ve seen me with Daniel at headquarters (and apparently taken a picture). My fingers itched to pick up the phone, make a call, and scream out my rage. But not in public. Especially not with a reporter sitting three feet away.
The bus had only traveled a few blocks since we left the mall. I yanked the cord, silently fuming. Confronting the reporter for doing his job wasn’t going to help. The last thing I needed was for tomorrow morning’s edition to read “Stripper Politician Attacks Fine, Upstanding Reporter on Bus.”
Lana must’ve agreed, because she was on her feet and at the door before the bus stopped. Neither one of us said a word until we were on the sidewalk.
“Was that…?” she asked.
“Yup.”
“Talking to—”
“—that bitch who sold me out? Why, yes, it was. Oh, I can’t believe her!”
Fuming, I turned back toward the mall. My legs carried me across the pavement as Lana practically jogged beside me to keep up. I was too furious to speak, and anything she said would’ve been lost to the wind since she trailed behind me.
Erica. Everything that had gone wrong since the beginning of the campaign was because of my hired image consultant. Now my Communications Director. The woman who was supposed to be helping me. My failing campaign wasn’t entirely my fault. The press wouldn’t have paid any attention to me without her feeding them dirt. No one except Curtis should’ve cared what I did for a living. I mean, they all supported an old man who’d thrown away his life’s work to sell skincare products out of an RV with a woman young enough to be his granddaughter. “Family values” and “Baker” weren’t exactly synonymous, no matter what they wanted people to believe.
When I thought of all the times Erica had looked down her nose at me, all the times she acted so distraught at the media attention, I wanted to punch something. Instead, my rage propelled me forward. A few short minutes later, I arrived back at Lana’s car.
I paced until my friend caught up to me. She unlocked the doors but paused before climbing inside. “I assume we’re going to Erica’s house?”
“You don’t have to go with me,” I said. “But it’s time for the two of us to have a long talk.”
My mind raced as Lana drove back to her place so I could pick up my car. I didn’t know what to say to Erica, or how to get her to admit what she’d done, but I needed to see her. This couldn’t wait.
Less than half an hour later, standing on the front porch of the type of spectacular home I’d never be able to afford, all the wind went out of my sails. No cars in the driveway, no movement behind the curtains. No one responding to the doorbell. If Erica was home, she wasn’t opening the door.
Part of me wanted to go in, anyway. Try the windows or walk around the back looking for an unlocked door. But if Erica found out, she’d probably call the police, not to mention Jerry. Daniel would be furious if I got arrested. A burglary charge would be the icing on this craptastic cake of suckitude.
With a heavy sigh, I turned toward the street. I didn’t know where to go. I’d foolishly hoped to get a confession from Erica before calling Daniel. He needed to see what a snake she was. I couldn’t handle the thought of telling him what I’d seen and having him think I was jumping to conclusions.
As I reached my car, someone said my name. The voice was so quiet, I almost didn’t hear it. I swiveled around to find Curtis on the front porch of the house next door, striding toward me. Great. Just what I needed.
What on Earth was he doing here, anyway?
The best defense was a good offense, so I glared at him as if I weren’t standing uninvited on Erica’s front lawn. “What do you want?”
“Now, now, Ms. Martin, I’m not your enemy.”
“Really? Coulda fooled me.” I sighed and stuffed my hands in my pockets. “Why are you here?”
“I live here.”
My head shot up. “I’m sorry, what?”
He gestured to the large blue two-story home at the end of the sweeping driveway behind him. “This is my parents’ home. I grew up here. When my father…er, lost his senses, I moved home to help my mother.”
This didn’t make any sense. Had I somehow gotten the address wrong? After all, I’d never been to Erica’s house before, for obvious reasons. There must be a mistake in the database. Since I still needed to find her, it was time to get the heck out of here. But I couldn’t just leave without saying anything. The only thing more awkward than being caught standing outside his house would be bolting the moment he saw me.
“Sorry, I must’ve written down the wrong address. I was looking for Erica.”
“Ah. I suppose that makes sense.” He glanced at the still house behind me. “I don’t think she’s home, though.”
Hold up. He couldn’t possibly be saying what I thought he was saying. “You and Erica are neighbors?”
“Well, my parents and hers. We grew up together.”
Okay, this information changed everything. So many things started to click in my memory. Trying to force myself to focus, I swallowed and counted to five. “Tell me—how was Erica’s relationship with your mother before she moved?”
“Two peas in a pod,” he said. “Mom wrote the recommendation to get Erica into Boston College. Why do you ask?”
The final puzzle piece fell into place. Erica’s disdain wasn’t about me. She was here to help Mrs. Baker restore the family image. And I was the naive fool who didn’t do enough research, didn’t ask nearly enough questions about any of the people working for me.
Time to go. If she wasn’t home, confronting her wouldn’t work. This whole conversation threw me for a loop. I needed to regroup, talk to Daniel, decide on a plan of action. See if there was anything left to salvage.
Another thought stopped me cold in my tracks: what if he knew? Daniel and Erica were old friends. Daniel had known Curtis for decades. Erica had known Curtis for decades. They were next-door neighbors, for god’s sake. And Daniel hired her.
No.
I had to believe he wasn’t part of this. Because if Daniel knew about Erica’s treachery, then everything he claimed to feel for me had been a lie. My poor heart couldn’t take that. Even if we couldn’t be together, I couldn’t believe that I’d had feelings for such a snake. Still, I needed to talk to him, immediately.
Before I left, though, there was something I had to know. “Curtis, can I ask you a question?”
He shrugged. “Sure.”
“Why are you doing this? Daniel told me about you, and the person he described didn’t care about pole or even stripping or any of this. Heck, he’s suggested that there may be a photo or two of you cozying up to a man on a pole out there somewhere.”
All the color drained from his face. “Hold on… are you blackmailing me?”
I sighed. “No. That’s the difference betw
een you and me. I don’t want to win that way. I don’t care that you’re gay. I don’t want anyone who does to use your personal business as a reason to vote for me instead of you. Or not to vote at all.”
He suddenly turned ramrod straight, glancing at the house over his shoulder. Probably worried that Mommy Dearest would hear me spilling his deepest secret. “I’m sorry, but I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
“Sure. Whatever.” Coming here had been a waste of time, and trying to connect with Curtis as a human being made me feel like an idiot.
I got in the car, letting the door slam. My phone pulled up directions to campaign headquarters, so I shifted the car into gear. At the corner, I allowed myself to glance back, looking once more for any signs of life at Erica’s house.
Instead I saw Curtis, still standing on the sidewalk, watching me go.
CHAPTER 24
Chopper: This move looks impressive, but once you’ve built up your core strength, it’s fairly simple. With a bit of practice, soon you’ll find yourself able to hang upside-down from almost anything.
- Push and Pole Fitness Tutorials, Vol. 3
When I got to campaign headquarters, Daniel was on a call, so I started texting my old students, setting up lessons again. Erica was the one who’d insisted I stop teaching any one-on-one sessions, who took the pole in my condo until after the election. Her opinion meant nothing now, not when she’d been secretly working against me the whole time. Without her constantly calling the media on me, no one would be peeking into my windows, even if I won.
And if they did, well, I had curtains. Also the ability to call the police on them for trespassing. I was done giving up all the things I loved. Erica ruined my chances of winning the election, nipped my relationship with Daniel in the bud, took away all my hobbies—no more. Pole exhilarated me. The thrill of nailing a new move, the look of wonder when a student accomplished something she’d thought impossible. I wanted that back.
One by one, I explained to my best students that I planned to get back to teaching immediately. Even though the old space may not be available until after the hearing, I was looking for a new location. I offered to set up discounted private appointments for the following week. Although the press crucified me every chance they got, my students loved me. They just wanted to get strong, learn cool tricks, and awe their friends and family. Time to make some money and take my mind off everything that happened since I made that stupid live stream.
Poll Dancer Page 16
