The Power and the Glory

by Kimberly Lang

  That required a baffling leap of logic he simply wasn’t capable of making and an equally large amount of overreaction.

  The drip of water onto his shoulder sent him back to the bedroom in search of his towel. As he scrubbed it over his hair, he remembered Aspyn’s remark about her resignation letter.

  He hadn’t been in the shower all that long. Aspyn had to have worked fast to get from snooping through his computer files to jumping to conclusions to writing a resignation letter and getting packed.

  Curious, he clicked on Aspyn’s folder and searched the file names. There it was, properly marked “Breedlove, M.A., Resignation Letter,” and today’s date.

  To: Brady Marshall, Marshall For Senate Campaign

  From: Aspyn Breedlove

  RE: I quit.

  Since I cannot, in reality, resign from a nonexistent position that I never actually held, this letter seems redundant and unnecessary. However, I feel it is important to officially state my separation from a morally questionable work environment—a decision made immediately upon my discovery of the repugnant truth behind the story of my brief time with this campaign. I hold myself to higher ethical standards than demonstrated in this campaign and cannot continue in a situation that may damage my reputation by association.

  Aspyn had learned a lot from her brief affair with politics. She’d removed herself from the situation and done so in a way that cleared her of complicity. She was good. Adept at the game.

  She’d calm down. She said she understood their motives behind hiring her, and once she had time to get past the shock and hurt feelings, Aspyn would be more open to discussion about the personal aspect.

  He just didn’t know how long it would take her to get to that point.

  I will not mope. Things end. I knew it would.

  Aspyn scrubbed the grout around her bathtub with renewed—if somewhat forced—energy. Oh, she was still mad; the righteous indignation of this debacle could carry her for a long time.

  She’d explained her arrival this morning to Margo with just an “I think I’m coming down with something,” and locked herself in her apartment. Margo, of course, had brought up a cup of something warm and vile-smelling shortly thereafter. But the older woman had taken a close look at her, said she looked terrible and told Aspyn to go to bed and stay there. A look in the mirror confirmed it: she looked as bad as she felt.

  And therein lay the problem. She didn’t just feel mad; there was hurt and anger totally unrelated to Brady’s lies about her job with the campaign in there, too.

  That made everything worse because she shouldn’t be hurt. She should just be angry. Angry about being used, regardless of how and why. The fact she was hurt only made her more angry—mainly at herself for letting her get into a position where Brady could hurt her at all.

  The fact she wanted to mope about him made her even angrier at herself.

  Scrubbing grout was punishment for those sins as well as an outlet for her anger.

  Be angry. Not hurt.

  Being hurt brought up all kinds of issues she really didn’t want to face. Self-examination of her feelings didn’t seem like a good idea right now. She might not like what she discovered.

  Aspyn had a sneaking suspicion that she knew what lay beneath, but avoidance meant she wouldn’t have to really face it yet. Denial was her friend right now. Eventually she’d have enough distance to reflect, learn and grow from the experience.

  Working for the Marshall campaign had been an aberration from the norm, but sleeping with Brady Marshall had been a dip into insanity. It was a good thing she’d found out the truth about both situations before anything got out of hand. She was lucky to escape from that whole political scene and the people in it unscathed.

  Oh, who am I kidding? I’m totally scathed.

  She sat back against the bathroom wall and leaned her head against the cool tile. It was disgusting. She was caught: hook, line and sinker. Oh, she talked a good game, but she’d been sucked all the way in by Brady.

  Brady Marshall: everything she should never want in a man. He wore ties and belonged to the country club, owned horses and played golf. Golf, the most ridiculous and useless sport ever. Brady benefited from the status quo, excelled in the system. One person who was such her polar opposite they might as well be different species.

  Goddess help her, she’d fallen in love with the jerk.

  “Where’s Aspyn? She said she’d help with the invitations.”

  Brady just happened to be standing there checking his schedule with Lauren when one of the volunteers stuffing election-night party invitations into envelopes asked the question.

  “Aspyn resigned from the campaign,” Lauren answered without a pause.

  There was a group gasp, followed by a moment of shocked silence as the volunteers looked at each other.

  Mrs. Jackson, an elderly grandmother type who’d volunteered for Marshall campaigns since his grandfather’s second term, looked at Lauren in disbelief. “She quit? A week before the election?”

  Lauren was the only person he’d told, and only after Aspyn hadn’t shown up this morning. He’d been working under the assumption that once she cooled down, she’d regret her resignation and show up like nothing had happened. So much for his assumptions.

  He certainly didn’t think Aspyn’s absence would be a big deal at HQ and hadn’t seen the sense in an announcement. Maybe he should have let Lauren say something official to everyone. She had the ability and aplomb to treat this like she would for any other employee—something he was discovering he lacked. Lauren, though, regrouped well. “She tendered her letter of resignation Saturday.”

  “But why?” another volunteer he vaguely recognized asked.

  Lauren shrugged. “Personal reasons.”

  “Bless her heart.” Murmurs of agreement rumbled around the table, with an “Oh, dear, how terrible” tossed in as well.

  Aspyn wasn’t dead, she just quit—not that someone would realize that from the reactions here. “I’m sure Aspyn’s just fine,” he said to quell the dismay.

  Mrs. Jackson frowned at him. “Aspyn’s worked so hard and she loved it here so much. To resign this close to the finish line … It would have to be something bad.”

  No, just a morally questionable work environment. And a boss she thinks is a liar and a user.

  “That’s not the impression she gave me.” He should have saved his breath. The conversation went on around the table like he hadn’t commented at all.

  “Has anyone talked to her? I hope she knows we’re here if she needs us.”

  “I just hope nothing happened to her parents.”

  “Should we could call Margo? She would know what’s going on.”

  “I’m sending her an email right now.”

  Brady walked away—not that anyone noticed his departure. They were all too busy taking up a collection for a basket of mini-muffins to send to her apartment.

  He hadn’t realized she’d made so many friends around here. On second thought, though, it wasn’t that much of a surprise. She’d gotten off to a rocky start, but after that, she’d made a place for herself here. He just hadn’t realized how deeply she’d settled in and made herself at home.

  Which made her ongoing silence all the more frustrating. He’d called her Saturday night, but she hadn’t answered and still hadn’t returned his call. Not only was she angry, but she was nursing that anger. He never would have pegged Aspyn as the kind to carry a grudge.

  It bothered him a lot more than it should. First, it was insulting to think Aspyn believed he would take her to bed with some ulterior motive. She could castigate him all day long for the not-entirely-honest representation of her position with the campaign and he’d suffer it. But he wasn’t low enough to use her—or anyone—just for his own sexual gratification or this election. Did she really think he was that much of a lowlife?

  He hadn’t slept well last night; the bed felt too empty. He had no problem sleeping alone—never had—so it wasn�
��t just the fact Aspyn wasn’t there. No, her continued silence had a part of him worried that Aspyn would never be there again.

  Which was completely ridiculous. It had only been forty-eight hours since she stormed out. Maybe her temper needed longer than that to cool down. And even if she was determined to never speak to him again, why was he so bothered about it? She’d told him up-front this was only

  short-term. Their definitions of short-term just differed, that’s all.

  Aspyn had been a nice distraction, an interesting break from the norm and the routine. Things could go back to normal now.

  But, damn it, normal wasn’t remotely interesting right now. It was dull and boring and predictable. Right or wrong, he had a need to see Aspyn.

  And that bothered him a lot.

  CHAPTER NINE

  “HERE, honey. I brought you a drink.” Margo hadn’t even waited for Aspyn to tell her to come in before she was barging through the door.

  Aspyn pulled the afghan up tighter around her chest and muted the sound on the TV. Much to her everlasting shame, she was now in a full-out moping funk.

  “Thanks, Margo, but I’m—”

  “No buts.” Margo pressed the cup into her hand. It was cool, not hot, and when Aspyn lifted it to her nose for a sniff, the alcohol fumes nearly singed her eyebrows.

  “What is this?”

  “That, dearie, is from my secret stash of the best moonshine ever made.”

  Aspyn took a tiny sip and it burned a path down to her stomach. “Wow.”

  “Sip slowly. It’ll sneak up on you.”

  The second sip was easier. “So, what’s the occasion?”

  Margo’s face was kind and sympathetic without crossing into pity. “I think you’re far past any herbal remedy’s ability to help. I thought the ’shine might be more appropriate.”

  Lovely. “Is it that obvious?”

  Margo nudged Aspyn’s feet until she curled them up and made space on the futon for Margo to join her. “You haven’t left your apartment in days. So, yeah, it’s that obvious.”

  Aspyn groaned and closed her eyes. “I’m pathetic, aren’t I?”

  “No, honey, you’re heartbroken. I know that’s probably a first for you, but there’s still no shame in it.”

  There was no sense denying it or pretending her heart wasn’t involved. “Oh, there’s plenty of shame. Some embarrassment, a little self-loathing and a lot of disappointment are mixed in there, too, but it’s all still shameful.”

  “He’s a handsome, charming guy. Any girl could lose her head. Or her heart.”

  “It’s ridiculous. I shouldn’t have lost anything at all.” She gave Margo the abbreviated version of this mess. “I was able to keep the job and the sex separate. Or at least I thought I was doing a good job of that. But now it’s all tangled up together.”

  “And Brady?”

  “I wasn’t supposed to get emotionally attached to him and now I feel used. Even worse? He used me to fool other people. I’m complicit in perpetuating a deception on people. Just another pawn in the game.” The moonshine was going down easier now and had kindled a nice warm glow in her stomach. It felt good. In fact, she felt better all over.

  “Then call him out. I still have the business cards from a dozen of those reporters. I’m sure any of them would love to tell this story.”

  “To what end? Right now, my shame is at least somewhat private.”

  “It would expose Brady and his father as manipulators.”

  “‘Politicians Lie’ isn’t exactly headline news.” She snorted. “Not in this town. At most, it might embarrass Brady a little. All he really cares about is the election and this wouldn’t even make a ripple there.” She thought for a minute, tracing her finger around the rim of the cup. “No, whining to the press wouldn’t solve anything and would only make me look petty. In fact, it would probably be worse for me. I’m going to look like the bimbo trying to get her hooks into the Marshall Empire. I’ll be the punch line to a joke.”

  Margo frowned. “The Marshalls lied to you and to everyone. With the right spin, you could do some damage.”

  Aspyn sipped at her drink and thought about that for a minute. “I guess.”

  “But …?”

  “But I don’t hate him enough to do something like that. And the family—other than his father—doesn’t really deserve it, either.”

  “Oh, honey.” Margo patted her leg. “You really do love him.”

  She groaned. “Yes, as stupid as that is.”

  “Loving someone is never stupid. Love makes you do stupid, crazy things sometimes, but it isn’t stupid.”

  “Me being in love with Brady Marshall is stupid.”

  “Why, honey?”

  Let me count the ways. “We’re just too different.”

  “I don’t know about that,” Margo said with a shrug. “You seemed to get along okay up to now. Maybe your differences are good for each other. It allows you both to grow as people.”

  “In our world, maybe that’s okay. But not in Brady’s.”

  Margo frowned. “Last time I checked, we were all on the same planet.”

  “Brady can’t be involved with someone like me.” Her voice dropped a smidge into the pathetic range. “Not publicly.”

  “You make it sound like there’s something wrong with you, and I assure you, there’s not.”

  “Brady needs …” The moonshine was making it hard to put things into words properly—even if she could make her tongue work properly. “He needs a specific kind of woman. A Jackie Kennedy to stand beside him and look the part while he rules the world.”

  “So you were thinking long-term for once.”

  Ouch. “No! Maybe? Damn, that’s even crazier. I mean, can you see me in a little pillbox hat?”

  “I think you’d look adorable in a pillbox hat. I wish they were still in style. Maybe we could try to bring them back.”

  “Focus, Margo. Please.”

  “Sorry.” She cleared her throat. “I think we never know what we really need until Fate gives it to us. You and Brady might be—”

  “Disastrous?”

  “I was leaning toward ‘balancing.’ When did you get so cynical?”

  “It’s very easy to be cynical once you understand how things actually work in this world. Everyone is just shouting at the storm and it doesn’t make any difference.” She sighed. “You can’t restack the deck.”

  Margo’s eyes widened. “Mercy. No wonder the energy in here is terrible. I’ll bring up some carnelian and topaz crystals to clear out some of this pessimism.”

  “I’m learning pessimism isn’t always a bad thing. It’s healthy. What’s dangerous is optimism.”

  “You are in worse shape than I thought. And this—” she took the cup out of Aspyn’s hand “—isn’t helping.” She stood and tugged Aspyn to her feet. “We’re going downstairs.”

  Aspyn had to fight to keep her balance on rubbery legs and feet that felt farther away than normal. “Margo, I don’t want tea and my chakras are aligned and functioning. My aura is fine—if a little tipsy,” she added. “I appreciate the thought, but I just want to mope a while longer.”

  Margo cupped a hand around her cheek and smiled supportively. “Okay. But only until morning. That’s the maximum amount of moping anyone is allowed. Tomorrow we cleanse and move on. You’re too good for this.”

  “Thanks, Margo.” Glad Margo was taking the moonshine with her, Aspyn collapsed back onto the futon and the room swam at the edges.

  “But let me give you one more thing to think about. Jackie Kennedy was one strong lady who did some good things while wearing that pillbox hat. It’s not an all-or-nothing proposition.”

  “That’s a sellout.”

  “Goodness, no. Conformity can be deceptive. No one ever watches for the attack to come from the inside. Even if you’re not willing to forgive Brady, at least forgive yourself. And think about what the universe wanted you to learn from this lesson.”

  Back
under the afghan, Aspyn did just that as she slowly sobered up. She’d been so caught up in her private misery, she’d forgotten her original plans. She had gotten something out of this.

  And just as she could apply what she’d learned about politics to her professional life, Brady would have to be a learning experience for her private life. In the future, she’d be more careful about who she let into her heart and mind. She’d been too easily seduced, too willing to trust and accept without questions. She’d been stupid and naïve, ignoring her instincts and letting herself be guided by something other than her intellect and common sense.

  Growth never came easy. And it hurt like she couldn’t believe. But she could be stronger for the experience.

  Eventually.

  Just a few more days and this election would be in the history books. He should be happy, enjoying the wave of good press and poll numbers, congratulating himself on a job well done. But he wasn’t. He was just going through the motions, shaking hands and playing his part, but the pleasure of the campaign and its success had dissipated with Aspyn’s continued silence.

  It wasn’t like he expected Aspyn to be a permanent fixture in his life, but he hadn’t realized how much he’d miss her until she’d shut him out. The look on her face when she left still haunted him.

  Brady gave himself a strong mental shake as he parked behind HQ. He had to snap out of it. Nana did not tolerate tardiness, and he still had a forty-minute drive to Hill Chase ahead of him. Stopping by here might make him a few minutes late, but he could smooth that over with the Grands by telling them he’d spend a few days out there next week.

  It wasn’t like he had other postelection plans now.

  He was sending a text to Ethan, asking him to stall, as he rounded the corner in time to see Aspyn leaving the building. His first thought caused his heart to beat for the first time in days, but that faded as he noticed the small box she carried. Her coffee mug peeked out the top, and he knew that box contained the few personal items she’d brought to liven up her work space. She hadn’t come to see him; she’d come to clean out her desk. There was a finality to that somehow.