by L. A. Witt
She squeezed my hand. “Don’t jeopardize your campaign, though. You’ve come so far, I don’t want this to—”
“I’ll deal with any consequences for my campaign,” I said. “You need to worry about you, and so do I.”
“What are you going to do, though?”
I pulled her closer to me and kissed the top of her head. “I don’t know yet. But I’ll figure it out.”
That wasn’t entirely true. In fact, I was pretty sure there was only one thing I could do.
Chapter Twenty-seven
Anthony
The press conference was kept as hush-hush as anything like that could be kept when there were reporters involved. Quite simply, I waited until the absolute last second to put the word out to the media. I could only imagine the coffee-spilling, tire-squealing, muttered-swearing rush that resulted, but within two hours of the announcement, the conference room was thick with cameras, microphones, and eager-eyed reporters.
Backstage, Ranya and I ran interference, keeping anyone and everyone away from Jesse unless they had a damned good reason to talk to him.
A network crewman stepped into the room. “Mr. Cameron, you’re on in five minutes.”
“Thank you,” Jesse said with a nod. He set his shoulders back, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. Then he turned to me. “Did you look over my statement?”
I nodded. “Sounds good. I couldn’t have written it any better.”
He smiled. Though I’d written most of his speeches for the duration of the campaign, he’d insisted he needed to do this one on his own.
“It might not be the most eloquent thing in the world,” he’d said, “but I need this to be in my words.”
“It looks good,” I said again. “Are you sure you’re ready for this?”
“No.” He gulped. “Are you going to try to talk me out of it?”
“No.”
A cautious smile spread across his lips. “Some campaign manager you are.”
I laughed. “Well, okay, as your campaign manager, I should tell you this is political suicide. We’ve worked too hard and come too far.” I lowered my voice. “But…as someone who isn’t just your campaign manager, I’d rather see you commit political suicide than lose your integrity.”
He laughed bitterly. “Might be a bit too late for that.”
“Listen to me,” I said. “I’ve made a career out of getting people elected. My entire life revolves around the political world. So when I say this, I’m not saying it lightly.” It was all I could do not to take his hands in mine as I spoke, and I nearly did. Wasn’t like it would make much difference at this point. “You have more integrity than I’ve ever seen in a politician. Ever. I could never ask you to compromise that. I’d rather see you do the right thing for your conscience than have you try to sleep at night knowing you let the media vilify Simone.”
“Well, we’ll see about the sleeping-at-night part.”
I smiled. “I did say ‘try to sleep,’ didn’t I?”
He laughed. “Yeah, you did.”
The door opened, and we both turned. I expected another crewman, but it was Simone who hurried into the room.
She reached for Jesse’s arm. “What’s going on? What’s this about?”
He put his arm around her and kissed her cheek. “Don’t worry about it.”
“But…what…what are you doing?”
He smiled. “Keeping my promise.”
“Jesse—”
“This is what I have to do.” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Trust me on this.”
Simone’s shoulders sagged, and she swallowed hard.
“I have to go,” he said. “They’re waiting for me.”
He kissed Simone’s cheek again, then left through the same door.
She turned to me, eyes wide. “Anthony, please tell me he’s not doing something stupid.”
“No,” I said. “He is definitely not doing anything stupid.”
Her eyes narrowed. “What is he doing?”
“This was his decision,” I said. “He knows what he’s doing.”
“But do you?”
“Yes.”
She swore under her breath, probably realizing I was no more inclined to fill her in than I was to go chase Jesse down and make him reconsider.
We shifted our gazes to one of the live-feed screens, and the press conference started.
“My personal life has been the focus of a lot of attention, particularly over the past twenty-four hours,” Jesse said. “And I want to address some of that, specifically the speculation relating to my marriage.”
Beside me, Simone drew in a breath and her posture stiffened.
“First,” Jesse said, “I’d like to say that my passion for the issue of domestic violence is indeed a personal one, but has nothing to do with my wife, nor have I myself ever been a victim or perpetrator at any time in my life. I have seen the effects of spousal abuse and domestic violence on people I love, but their identities will not be disclosed, and I ask that their anonymity—and safety—continue to be respected.”
“That’s asking a lot of the media,” Ranya muttered.
“No kidding,” I said. “Hopefully they’ll listen this time.”
“Yeah right.”
Oblivious to our combined pessimism, Jesse went on.
“I would like to take this opportunity to apologize publicly to my wife for everything I’ve put her through, especially the last few months. Simone has been a tremendous support, devoted to this campaign, even while enduring brutal—at times cruel—scrutiny from the media, when that scrutiny should have been focused on me. She has weathered accusations of abuse and infidelity, and a degree of stress that has led her to serious health problems. Simone, for everything you’ve been through on this campaign, I am truly and deeply sorry.”
Beside me, Simone sniffed. When I glanced at her, there was an extra shine in her eyes.
“You okay?” I asked.
Without taking her eyes off the screen, she nodded.
“Further,” Jesse said, the faintest hint of nerves shaking the very edges of his voice, “I would like to apologize to the people of California. I’ve misled the public regarding my personal life, and—”
Roger came out of nowhere and grabbed my arm. “What is he doing? How could you let him sabotage himself like this?”
“Sabotage himself?” I jerked my arm away. “No, Roger. You sabotaged him from the beginning. You wanted him elected, but you asked him to compromise his integrity right out of the gate. Now he’s cleaning up the mess you asked all of us to make.”
“Anthony, you son of a—”
Ignoring him, I shifted my attention back to the press conference.
Jesse rested a hand on the podium, and though he was still collected and professional, that slight unsteadiness in his voice was more pronounced now. “While we have presented ourselves as a happily married couple, and Simone has tirelessly—and at the expense of her physical health and emotional well-being—played the role of a blissfully devoted wife, she has been keeping a secret I had no right to ask her to keep.”
Simone put her hands over her mouth. “Jesse, no…”
He continued. “The truth is that my relationship with Simone has been over some time, and any relationships she has pursued in recent months have been with my knowledge and my blessing. While she and I remain close friends, we will be divorcing, not because of any infidelity or even disagreements”—pause, a long, loaded pause—“but because I am gay.”
His wife made a choked sound and brushed past me. A moment later, one of the heavy doors banged shut behind her. I glanced toward it, opening my mouth to ask Ranya if she could go make sure she was all right, but Dean followed Simone out the door.
I turned back to the screen. Hands had shot up and dozens of voices tried to ask questions, but Jesse raised one hand, inclining his head just enough to indicate he wasn’t finished. Every hand fell, and the voices quieted. After a moment, Jesse w
ent on.
“I cannot continue to ask my wife to endure what she has, nor can I ask the public to continue supporting my bid for office after my dishonesty.” He paused, taking a breath, no doubt steeling himself for the second point of no return in this speech. Finally he said, “In light of all of this, I will be withdrawing from the election.”
I exhaled as the entire room exploded with activity. There was no going back now. It was out. Jesse was out. His chances of winning were nil even if he hadn’t withdrawn, because this wasn’t the kind of scandal a candidate could recover from. California wasn’t as progressive as it liked to think it was, and even if he’d waited until after the election to come out, this state wasn’t above a recall vote. If he misrepresented himself over something as volatile as homosexuality, he wouldn’t be a sitting governor for long.
On the screen, Jesse quieted the crowd and went on. “And as for my wife, when I spoke of her in a recent interview, I meant every word I said. Simone is better than I deserve, better than I ever could have asked for, and I only hope everything that has transpired over the last few months have not damaged our friendship beyond repair. Simone, if you can find it in your heart to—”
He stopped abruptly, and his head snapped to his left. A second later, Simone stepped into the frame. He drew back from the microphone enough that it didn’t pick up whatever he said to her just before she threw her arms around him.
I held my breath. The entire state watched. Cameras flashed, voices barked questions, microphones waved, but for a few long, still seconds, I was sure no one existed in his world except her, and I didn’t feel the least bit of jealousy toward her. He needed this. He needed her forgiveness.
When they separated, they both wiped their eyes. She stood up on her heels and kissed his cheek, and as she left the stage, he faced the crowd again.
He cleared his throat, took a deep breath, and cleared his throat again. Once he’d regained his composure, he continued. “My political involvement does not end here, however. I made a promise to the survivors of domestic abuse, and I have hundreds of letters and photos from people who have taken that promise to heart. Rest assured that while I am withdrawing from this election, I am not abandoning those to whom I’ve made that promise. I will continue working for better protection and recourse for you, your children, your family members. I will not abandon you.”
He concluded his speech and took a few questions from reporters, but kept that part of the press conference as brief as he could. When he joined us backstage, his furious, red-faced uncle greeted him at the door.
“What were you thinking, you idiot?” Roger snarled. “You’ve turned the Cameron political legacy into a laughingstock.”
“I did that by listening to you,” Jesse snapped. “Now I’m doing damage control and trying to salvage my reputation.”
Roger threw his head back and laughed. “Your reputation? Damage control? My God, Jesse, you’re—”
“Fuck you, Roger,” Jesse growled. He turned to the security personnel standing by the door. “Would you mind…” He let a nod toward Roger finish the thought, then turned back to the rest of us while the two burly men removed the fucking idiot from the room.
Simone hugged Jesse again, and I just barely heard him say, “I’m so sorry.”
“I know. And I forgive you for everything.”
“Thank you,” he whispered.
She let him go, and then she turned to me. My heart jumped into my throat when she smiled and reached out to hug me. As I returned her gentle embrace, she said, “You two take care of each other, okay?”
I swallowed hard. “We will.” I pulled back and, keeping my hands on her thin shoulders, looked her in the eye. “You’ll take care of yourself too, right?”
She smiled, and for once I believed her. “Don’t worry. I will.” She glanced at Jesse, and the smile broadened. “I’ll still have him keeping after me.”
Jesse laughed. “Well, someone has to keep you out of trouble.”
I snorted. “Fox guarding the henhouse, methinks.”
“Hey!”
Simone laughed. “He does have a point, Jess.”
He rolled his eyes and gave an exasperated sigh. “You two…”
She giggled, then hugged him again. “I’d better go. We’ll sort everything out, the divorce and all of that, another day.”
Jesse smiled. “No great rush, right?”
“No great rush.” Simone returned the smile, and for the first time since I’d met her, she looked like she really meant it. She wasn’t so tense or pretending to feel something she didn’t. She didn’t look truly happy, not yet, but she looked like she was well on her way to being happy.
After Simone and Dean left, Jesse released a long breath. “Great. And now I leave California in the hands of John Casey.”
I shrugged. “There have been worse governors.”
“I could have been a better one.”
“Yeah,” I said. “You would have been. But such is the political climate we live in. Maybe you’ll get a chance to run again.”
“Maybe.” He tilted his head to one side, then the other, probably to stretch a crick out of his neck. “For the time being, I guess I should start looking for another place to live. We’ll probably have to sell the house, and even if we don’t, I think it’ll be easier on her if we don’t keep living together.”
“Well, you could…” I hesitated.
He raised his eyebrows. “Hmm?”
“It’s just me at my place,” I said quietly, reaching up to scratch the back of my neck. “If you…I mean, if that’s not too…fast…”
Jesse stared at me. “Are you serious?”
I fidgeted, not sure why it made me so nervous to throw the offer out there. “It isn’t exactly a place in Malibu, but it’d just be, you know, the two of us.” I met his eyes. “The offer’s there. If you want to stay temporarily or…longer…”
He cocked his head. “Are you really asking me to move in with you?”
I coughed into my fist. “Well, it’s a suggestion. A thought.” I shifted my eyes away from him, then made myself look at him again. “But yes. I am.”
“Are you sure? I don’t want to impose on you any more than I already have.”
I trailed my fingertips down the side of his face. “I want you to, Jesse.”
He smiled and leaned in closer. “I couldn’t think of any better place to go.”
And right there, in a public place with people around and voices chattering nearby and cameras not far away, Jesse kissed me.
* * * *
Reporters shouted Jesse’s name, waving microphones in his face and asking questions as cameras flashed all around him. He smiled and gave answers I couldn’t hear, but didn’t stop or slow down as he descended the steps in front of the courthouse.
When he reached the passenger side of my car, he paused to address them briefly—very briefly—before pulling open the door and dropping into the seat.
I made the quickest escape I could without running over any reporters, and in seconds, we were out on the road with the news vans and cameras and microphones fading in the rearview.
“How did it go?” I asked.
“It’s done.” He closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the headrest. “I’m officially a single man.”
I put a hand on his knee. “This is still a good thing, right?”
He smiled. “Yeah. Just kind of getting used to not having all this weight on my shoulders.” He blew out a breath. “So now that my political career has gone the way of the dodo, I guess I should look into another line of work.”
“You could always go back into acting.”
He looked at me, one eyebrow up, and I couldn’t even try to keep a straight face. We both laughed, and Jesse shook his head.
“Yeah, okay,” he said. “I’ll get right on that.”
“You still have your law degree,” I said. “Your bar certification is current, right?”
He nodde
d. “Not sure if I want to go that route, though. The courtroom never did feel like home to me.”
“But the political arena did?”
“It did. Still does, actually.”
“Well, you never know. The people like you, and you aren’t the first gay politician or the first one to have publicized personal issues.”
“And the other openly gay ones have had such a grand time getting elected,” he muttered.
“Times are changing,” I said. “And if you decide to run again, and you need a campaign manager…”
“Just think, this time we wouldn’t have to sneak off whenever we wanted to fuck.”
“And all I’d have to do to wake you up for an event is, well, roll over and wake you up.”
Jesse laughed. “Well, let’s not rush that particular career path.”
“Not like you have to worry about an income, right?”
“Well, no. I just, you know, need something to do.”
“We still helping your brother move this weekend?”
“Assuming Julie is still going out of town,” he said, “and I’m pretty sure she hasn’t made any noise about not doing that.”
“And Chris hasn’t changed his mind?”
“I don’t think he will,” Jesse said. “Not this time.”
“About damned time he got out of there.”
“No shit.” He put his hand on mine and laced our fingers together. “And once we’re done moving him, I’m done moving anyone for the foreseeable future.”
I laughed and brought our joined hands up to my lips. “Good. That means you’re not going anywhere anytime soon.”
“I wasn’t planning on it,” he said as I kissed the backs of his fingers. “Well, aside from your bedroom, maybe.”
I glanced at him, one eyebrow up. “Oh really?”
He winked. “I am a single man now. We can fuck without any guilt at all.”
“Well, in that case,” I said, “we should get home, shouldn’t we?”
“Yes. Yes, we should.”
Jesse grinned, and I drove a little faster.
Loose Id Titles by L. A. Witt
Where There’s Smoke
With the Band
