by J. L. Brown
I wonder how many pages Mrs. Johnson will make me write?
And then, mercifully, darkness.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Seattle, Washington
Jade had never watched a WNBA game from a courtside seat. During her playing days, she hadn’t spent much time on the bench. Located in the Uptown—or as the locals called it, Lower Queen Anne—neighborhood just north of downtown, the antiquated Key Arena was packed for the first basketball game of the season. The Seattle Storm were hosting the Los Angeles Sparks.
The environment evoked a small rush of emotion within her: the squeak of the sneakers on the court, the thump as the basketballs bounced off the floor, the high fives, the half hugs. This was the game she’d loved and had spent a significant portion of her life playing. Just a small rush. That part of her life was over.
She didn’t live in the past.
Many fans shook Kyle’s hand as they walked by. Others called out to her from the seats behind them.
Storm players nodded and smiled at Kyle during warmups. Star player Sky Williams jogged over, a basketball under her arm. “Hey, Kyle.” She stopped in front of Jade and held out her hand. Jade shook it.
“I’m a big fan of yours,” the player said. “You’re the reason why I went to Stanford.” She pointed to her jersey. “And the reason why I’ve worn number twenty-two since middle school. Thanks for coming.” Sky pivoted and dribbled away.
Middle school.
For the first time, Jade felt old. She looked at Kyle. “I give. Are you famous or something?”
Kyle smiled. “Or something.”
“Hey, you.”
The voice was out of place. Like way out of place. Like the wrong coast or the distance of a continent out of place. Zoe? Jade turned in her seat, puzzled. “What are you doing here?”
Zoe pointed at the back of Sky Williams. “Let’s just say, I’m a fan.”
“You’re dating her?”
“‘Dating’ might be a little strong. We met at a party last year. In DC. After a Storm-Mystics game.”
Jade shouldn’t have been shocked. She had long since lost track of Zoe’s copious number of exes. Jade just hadn’t realized until now how geographically dispersed they were.
Zoe glanced at Kyle before asking Jade: “What are you doing here?”
Good question.
“She’s with me,” Kyle said, reaching across Jade to shake Zoe’s hand. “Kyle Madison.”
Zoe hesitated. “Zoe.” They shook, their eyes held each other’s gaze.
“How do you two know each other?” Zoe asked.
Jade was curious about the look they shared. Had they hooked up in the past, or were they attracted to each other now?
Neither Jade nor Kyle responded to Zoe’s question.
Zoe fidgeted. After a while, she said, “I see. Well, we’re going to a party after, if you want to join us.”
“We have plans,” Kyle said.
Jade glanced at Kyle, but said nothing.
Zoe looked at Jade. “When are you going home?”
“Tomorrow.”
“Who’s taking care of Card?”
“I got a neighbor to check on him. Since you weren’t around.”
Zoe shrugged and looked out on the court. “I had plans.” She winked. “I need to get back to my seat.”
More fans stopped by to say hello before the game started. Mostly for Kyle, but some acknowledged Jade as well. She was rarely recognized anymore for her basketball exploits. And she was okay with that.
Her phone vibrated. A text. From Zoe. Are you dating her?
Jade laughed.
“What is it?” Kyle asked.
“Nothing,” she said. She texted back: Mind your business.
You’re my BFF. You are my business.
The first half, an exciting one with a lot of fast breaks and even a dunk by Seattle’s six-foot-eight center, ended. At halftime, Kyle excused herself, and Jade trekked to the concession stand for popcorn. She resettled in her seat and scanned the crowd for danger. Professional habit. The arena didn’t have much of a security presence. She worried about a major terrorist attack targeting a US sporting event, and was surprised there hadn’t been one yet.
When she looked back toward the court, Kyle stood at the half-court line next to two other people and a cardboard check. Jade stopped chewing the stale, salty popcorn.
Into a microphone, Kyle said, “On behalf of the entire Seattle Storm organization, I present this check for ten thousand dollars to the Make-A-Wish Foundation.”
Seizing the program on the seat next to her, Jade flipped through it until she came to a profile of Kyle with a quarter-page picture of her. Kyle was a minority owner of the Storm.
Kyle waved to the crowd and strolled back to her seat, a mischievous smile forming as she caught Jade watching her.
Kyle grabbed a handful of popcorn out of Jade’s bag. “I’ve been a PAC-Ten, Twelve, whatever, fan all of my life.”
“You knew who I was,” Jade said.
“Of course I did.”
*
“I would’ve been okay,” Jade said. “I think I can take care of myself.”
Kyle adjusted her hair under the hood of her North Face jacket. “I’m sure you can. But this is my town. I don’t mind walking you.”
“Where’d you park?”
“I didn’t. This is a city for walking.”
The night air had turned chilly since they’d entered the arena. A light drizzle fell as they strolled the twelve-block walk to Jade’s hotel downtown.
“I enjoyed the game. Thanks for inviting me.”
“My pleasure,” Kyle said. “Do you ever miss it?”
“Some parts I miss. There are few things in life that compare to hitting a shot at the buzzer to win a big game or threading the needle with a perfect, no-look pass. But what I miss most is the time that I spent with my teammates off the court. The bus trips. Airplane rides. Team meals. Hanging out in the hotel.”
“I wish we could have won for you tonight.”
“LA is always tough. You know a lot about the game. Did you play?”
“No. I’ve always been more of an outdoor enthusiast: skier, hiker, cyclist.”
“Not much of a team player, are you?”
This made Kyle smile. “I guess not.”
In front of the hotel, Jade stopped. “Well, thanks again. I’ll be in touch with you about the case.” She yawned. “Time difference.” She extended her hand. Instead of a firm handshake this time, Kyle simply held it. Her hand, soft.
Kyle gazed at her.
Those eyes.
“I travel to DC on occasion. I’ll look you up next time I’m there. To check out the status of my case in person.” A slight tilt of the head. “Perhaps we can have dinner.”
Anything related to the case could be discussed over the phone. Before Jade could voice this, Kyle gave her hand a light squeeze and turned and walked away.
She didn’t look back.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
The White House, Washington, DC
“How many?”
“Maybe ten,” responded her chief of staff.
“Still?” Ten out of a hundred senators. Whitney looked at Sasha, who sat across from her in the Oval Office. “We have a long way to go, don’t we?”
“For so many things. But you’re right. We need Hampton.”
“That will make him happy.”
“And maybe Sampson.”
Whitney held up her hand like a crossing guard. “Let’s try to do this without him.”
“I do have some good news. Gas prices are at a three-year low.”
“Why are presidents blamed when gas prices go up, but receive none of the credit when they go down?”
“Politics 101. Bad news is always the president’s fault. Judy from ABC called me.”
“Nice segue.”
“She wants to interview you. About your childhood. Teenage years. Confirmation on some details. A fl
uff piece. I think it’s a good idea.”
“I think we should focus on the legislation, not me.” Whitney’s phone buzzed. She pressed the blinking line. “Yes?”
“The First Gentleman’s assistant, Madam President,” Sean, her secretary said.
Sasha rose, but hesitated. Whitney waved her to stay.
She leaned back in her chair, waiting for Grayson’s assistant to connect them. “Yes, darling.”
“What’s this I hear about this new legislation?”
“Which one? There are many.”
“This New Deal Coalition. Tell me about it.”
“The New New Deal Coalition.” She summarized the bill for him.
“I see,” Grayson said. “What businesses will be regulated by it?”
There it is. The real reason for his call.
“Almost every business in the United States will be touched by it. And, yes, agribusiness is included.”
Silence. Then softly, he said, “Touched.”
“Businesses must pay their fair share. Even your business.”
“This bill will hurt businesses. Our business. Have you thought about the unintended consequences?”
“Don’t talk to me as if I’m an idiot. This legislation will right a wrong. It will bring a measure of fairness and equity into the economic system.”
“I provide thousands of jobs. Treat my employees well. Pay them fairly. I don’t need interference from the government. Let me do my job. Let me run my business.”
Whitney felt her blood pressure start to rise. “This country is my business, and I must do what is right for the country, not Fairchild Industries.”
“You should’ve talked to me about this first. Don’t do this.”
“Darling, I don’t need to run my decisions by you. That’s not how this works.”
She hung up.
Sasha was nodding, a hint of a smile on her face.
Whitney forced thoughts of Grayson from her mind. “Where were we?”
“What do you want me to tell Judy?”
“Put her off.”
CHAPTER FORTY
Fairfax, Virginia
Jade drummed her fingers on the steering wheel. She drove faster than normal.
When she had returned to her hotel room last night after the game, she finally checked her smartphone. Christian had texted her. Multiple times.
His son Mark had been rushed to the hospital. The final tally: two black eyes, a few broken ribs, and bruising all over his face. Luckily, there was no internal bleeding or liver damage. Released, he was home, resting.
Instead of taking the morning flight as planned, she had taken the last flight out and was now driving straight to Christian’s house from National Airport.
He answered the doorbell.
She entered without being asked. “How is he?”
She turned when he didn’t respond. His eyes were hard, his jaw flexing. “The doctor said he’s going to be okay.” He lifted his chin. “He’s in his room.”
“Did he say anything?”
“I tried to talk to him about it, just like I tried to talk to him after what happened to Tyler. He didn’t say much. He’s afraid of something.”
“Or someone.”
Jade headed up the stairs, Christian’s soft footsteps behind her. She knocked at the closed door on the second floor.
A weak “yeah” in response.
Opening the door, slow and cautious, she poked her head inside. Mark lay on his bed. The TV off. She didn’t see a cell phone, electronic tablet, or game console.
What had he been doing? “Hey, guy.”
“Hey, Mrs. Harrington.”
Jade didn’t correct the boy’s inaccurate characterization of her marital status. “Can we come in?”
He shrugged. She sat on the bed, careful not to jar him. His face and arms sported bruises, some more purple than others. He looked bad. She noted the absence of faded cuts or scratches.
Mark didn’t play on the baseball team.
She tried to quell the rage building inside her. He was a good kid. Polite. Respectful.
Christian didn’t enter the room. Instead, he leaned against the door frame, his hands clasped in front of him. His head down.
“I’d hate to see the other guy,” Jade said.
The boy gave her a weak smile. “It hurts to laugh.”
“You’re lucky then. Because I’m not that funny.”
This time he did laugh, stopping as suddenly as he started. He winced and touched a rib. “My dad said you were in Seattle. Did you catch the bad guys?”
Instead of cyber perpetrators, his question conjured up thoughts of Kyle. “Something like that. Do you want to tell me what happened?”
A brief shadow of fear crossed the boy’s face.
“You can trust me,” she said.
The boy looked from her to his dad and back to her. “I was getting ready to take the stairs to my sixth period, when someone grabbed me. Tripped me. They dragged me under the stairs and beat the crap out of me.”
“Did you see who it was?”
“No.”
“How many were there?”
“Three or four,” he said.
“All boys?”
“I think so. It happened so fast, I didn’t see their faces. It was dark under there.”
“Did you recognize any of their voices?”
The boy’s eyes shifted infinitesimally to the left. He swallowed. “No.”
“Are you sure, Mark?”
“Yeah, I’m sure.” He grimaced, and held his side.
“Why you? Why did they choose you?”
He glanced at his father and then back at Jade. He shrugged.
The kid was hiding something from his father. Or did it have something to do with Christian? Was that possible?
“What about Tyler? Do you know what happened to him?”
He slid farther down into the comfort of his bed. He closed his eyes. “I’m tired.”
“Can you tell me anything else about the attack? We want to find the kids who did this to you.”
He opened his eyes. “I thought I was going to die.”
Mark’s eyes closed again. Jade turned to glance at Christian, his face a dark mask. She’d never seen him this angry. She felt pity for what he and his family were going through.
She also pitied whoever had done this to his son, oblivious to what they had unleashed.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
The White House, Washington, DC
“Maybe we should change the name.”
Whitney shook her head. “Nonnegotiable. The New New Deal Coalition represents our future, and serves as a reminder of a time in our history when we came together to change the course of this country.”
Sasha nodded. “That’s good.”
As they walked down a hall in the West Wing, Whitney and Sasha continued to debate strategies for selling the legislation to Congress and the American people.
Sasha stopped.
“What is it?” Whitney asked.
Her chief of staff glanced up and down the hallway and lowered her voice. “I had lunch at the Four Seasons today.”
“When did I start giving you time off to eat?”
“Sampson, Hampton, and Bell were having lunch with Xavi.”
Xavier “Xavi” Fernandez, the former Independent governor of Florida, was now the vice president of the United States.
“Brutus isn’t trying too hard to hide his plot against me, I see.”
“The conversation seemed pretty intense. Hampton did most of the talking.”
Sampson’s presence didn’t surprise Whitney. He had never forgiven her for breaking her implicit promise to name him as her vice president after he dropped out of the closely contested Democratic primary in exchange for her support for a bill that he’d sponsored. He still blamed her for his unnecessary sacrifice. This was one of the reasons he had switched parties. Maybe the only reason. “See if you can find out the purpose of the meeting
.”
“Yes, Madam President.” They resumed walking. “What do you want to do about the situation in Colorado?”
A dozen armed ranchers, calling themselves The Last Patriots, were squatting on federal property in Colorado protesting the federal government’s decision—her decision—to designate more land as national parks. They threatened to annex the land and secede from the union. The FBI had surrounded the ranchers, but had been instructed to wait it out. No shots had been fired, yet.
“Let them secede?” Whitney joked.
“I wonder what the Second Amendment crowd would say if it were a bunch of African Americans with assault rifles squatting on federal property?”
She didn’t bother to answer Sasha’s question. She knew white privilege existed. “Our Founding Fathers gave us the right to bear arms, not arsenals.”
“Tell that to the militia.”
“Let’s not move in, yet,” Whitney said. “But keep me posted.”
“Did you see Sampson’s press conference in support of the ‘patriots’?”
“Contrary to what they profess, Republicans—even newly declared ones—do not have a monopoly on patriotism.”
Descending the steps to the basement, they continued walking until they arrived at an unassuming door. Josh McPherson opened the door that led into the Sit Room. The Situation Room.
Although she had selected Xavi as her running mate to attract the Hispanic and independent vote, she had never trusted her ambitious vice president. On Election Night, after the results were in, she reminded him that Hispanics were not the only minority in this country. She envisioned providing opportunities for all minorities. He responded that Hispanics were the only minority that mattered.
And now that man stood to her left at the table dominating the diminutive room. With dark hair and eyes and a trim build, Xavi’s smile never quite reached his eyes.
What are you up to, Xavi?
“Good afternoon,” she said. “Ladies and gentlemen, shall we begin? Please be seated.”
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
