Cocky Senator's Daughter: Hannah Cocker (Cocker Brothers of Atlanta Book 8)

by Faleena Hopkins

  That pause brings laughter from everyone except Dad and me.

  They’re referring to my holding Tobias’s cock in the dark ocean waters.

  Fucking assholes.

  They’re all hovering around us at the elevator, cameras and microphones poised while I poke the button.

  I am the picture of detachment.

  I am so terrified of them I have to disappear inside myself.

  Because I’ve always done this with them I’ve been called cold, aloof, spoiled, even Hannah the Untouchable.

  “Hannah, how do you think Tobias’s wife will react to the two of you?”

  My head turns like the girl’s in the Exorcist. “What did you say?”

  Having discovered a juicy underbelly her teeth can slice open, the reporter’s eyes glint with victory as she cuts me even deeper. “You didn’t know he was married?”

  My dad takes my elbow and walks me onto the elevator. “That’s enough.”

  They start shouting questions I can’t hear.

  The doors close.

  I croak, “Dad, he’s married?”

  “If I’d have known that I would have killed him!”

  Everything vanishes.

  I can’t see in front of me.

  It feels like I’m drowning.

  Sounds are filtered as if through water.

  I felt this before.

  Yes, I know this feeling.

  But it was so long ago.

  The doors open and by some miracle nobody is waiting. They probably already scoped it out and decided to wait downstairs…where they hit the jackpot.

  I don’t have my key.

  The only thing my fingers are gripping is the balled up turquoise reminder of a night with a married man.

  We shared oxygen.

  We shared everything.

  How can he be married?

  Dad knocks for me.

  Sofia opens the door and Emma comes rushing forward to take me in her loving arms. “Hannah! Oh my God. Please tell me he means nothing. Sofia seems to think you actually like this jerk!”

  “I don’t care about him,” I lie. Sofia’s watching me and I meet her knowing gaze to ask her, hoping it’s not true, “He’s married?”

  “We should have Googled him, Hannah.”

  My stomach twists as I realize she’s saying it’s true.

  Suddenly I remember the argument we had about it being disrespectful to Google me. Had I done the same, we would never have slept together because I despise cheating.

  Wait.

  Did we have that fight after sex?

  We did it so many times I can’t remember.

  Yes, it was in the tub.

  My dad tells Soph and Emm, “Press assaulted us in the lobby. We’ll use the back door to get out of here.”

  As I walk to my backpack I am outside of my own body, watching from above. I see myself mutter to Emma, “Did you have a nice flight?” Then I turn and puke all over the floor.

  My cousins rush to my bent over torso to pull my hair away and rub my back. “Uncle Justin, get a wet towel for her face!” Sofia calls out.

  Emma croons, “Oh Hannah, did you just find out? Oh, God, I’m so sorry. You must be in so much shock.”

  Rushing to the bathroom Dad snarls, “If he ever comes near you again I’ll knock his fucking teeth in. I don’t care how big he is. I’ll take him out.”

  Sofia’s dead serious. “You want me to have somebody hurt him?”

  “No,” I groan, wiping my chin with the warm towel Dad thrusts at me. “No. Don’t do that, Sofia. Please! No more pain. I just want to forget this ever happened and go home.”

  Fight or Flight - Hannah

  Since I don’t have to squeeze everything into Sofia’s saddlebags anymore I can take this backpack and the odd handle-bags from stores we bought extra clothes from — so many workout clothes for training.

  Emma’s walking Dad and I out of the room. “What a bummer you have to leave when I just got here.”

  I mutter, in a daze, “I know.”

  Sofia calls after her, voice strained, “We’ll have fun, Emm. And Hannah! Fuck that asshole! He doesn’t deserve another moment of your thoughts.”

  “It’s hard having a good time knowing that Hannah has to hide until this fades away. Doesn’t seem right.”

  Dad’s face is grim as we arrive at the elevator. He feels partly responsible.

  When his Senate years ended we both hoped this aspect of public life would be gone.

  Guess it won’t ever be.

  “Wait,” I whisper, a thought dawning inside my soul.

  Emma’s warm brown hair falls deeper over one side as she tilts her head.

  Dad faces me. “What is it?”

  “It’s always going to be like this, Dad.”

  He blinks. “What is?”

  “I thought the Press would eventually leave us alone, but they’re not going to, are they?”

  His eyes cloud over. “I don’t know.”

  “They’re never going away.”

  He and Emma frown at me and Sofia joins us with her hands hooking onto her hips.

  I walk past her back into the room, saying over my shoulder, “Dad, come put those down.”

  “Hannah—”

  “I love you, now please put my stuff down!”

  His heavy frown deepens, but when he sets everything on the bed his sharp eyes graze across the faces of my waiting cousins. They all make a path as I rush past them, determined.

  Sofia has no clue what’s happening but she likes the look on my face so she jogs up. “You going to beat Tobias up? Can I help?”

  Throwing her a glance like she’s nuts, I jab the elevator button. “I don’t want to see that guy again.”

  That’s a fucking lie. I want to see him, but I will forever hide that under a whole lot of will power.

  I will never break up a home.

  “I can’t believe he’s married, Soph.”

  “I know. Me neither. Fucking asshole.”

  “Deceitful sonofabitch,” I mutter, and of course images of our night together won’t go away. But I am done being a victim.

  I motion everyone into the first elevator that shows up. Have to call to my Dad, “Hurry up!” because he’s strolling behind Emma with his hands in his pockets again. He makes no move to increase his speed. You can’t tell my dad to do anything he doesn’t want to. Drives me nuts.

  In varying volumes, questions overlapping, my family asks what I’m up to as the car descends to the lobby. I’m locked on the dropping numbers, heart hammering, mouth clamped shut.

  My chest nearly explodes as the doors whoosh open and, predictably, a larger number of reporters are waiting. Word spread that I’d returned to the hotel and no one is surprised to see my dad, either. Never ceases to astound me what good detectives they are. It’s fucking bizarre. My cousins they ignore, as usual. How shocked they’d be if they knew Sofia’s real story.

  Like squawking seagulls they shout, “Ms. Cocker!” “Hannah!” “Over here!”

  Fuck You, Prudes - Hannah

  Everyone quiets as they become aware that I’m not shying away from the cameras. Also my Dad isn’t speaking up — it’s always him doing the talking.

  His charming smile that I inherited but never give them, grows on my face and lights my eyes as I smoothly call out a dignified, “What are your questions?”

  For a second they blink at me. Then a cacophony of desperation explodes. Holding up my hand I say over their surge of voices, “One at a time or I’m going upstairs. You first.”

  She’s a journalist I recognize, her hair perfect, suit expensive. “Ms. Cocker, did you know Tobias Kyrkos was married?”

  “Had I known, you think I would have grabbed his cock? Um, no.”

  My dad takes in a sharp breath.

  Sofia snorts.

  I can almost hear Grams pulling back her oxygen mask to shout, “Language!”

  Shocked, the reporters go silent for a second, glanc
ing to each other.

  I smile, pointing to a man who probably hasn’t been laid in two decades. “You.”

  He doesn’t miss a beat. “Aren’t you ashamed?”

  Throwing him a look like he’s crazy, I ask, “Of what? Have you ever touched someone you were attracted to before?”

  One of the women mutters a snotty, “Not in public!”

  I hone in on her and smile, “Not in the dark, under the stars, when you thought you were alone? Never? Not once?”

  Her face falls as if to admit that she has, in fact, done that. It may have been her husband, or her first love when she was still able to blush, but she’s done it.

  One of the men shouts, “People are calling you a slut!”

  My spine straightens and I lock onto each camera, “Listen up. Every woman in America and around the world, listen to me. Because you like sex, you are not a slut. You are human, and designed perfectly. You are supposed to want your man. What’s your name?” I ask him, pausing.

  Everyone looks over. He glances around and stutters, “Greg Mathers.”

  “Greg,” I smile, as if he’s a friend. “You like sex, right?”

  He blinks. I’ve put him in a predicament. He’s male so society gives him no ability to admit aloud that he doesn’t like sex. And I’m sure he loves it very much and doesn’t get enough. His male ego would never allow for the shame of saying, ‘Nope, don’t like fucking. Not fun,’ especially on camera.

  In his pause I take over again. “See? It’s strange to admit it aloud that you like it, but really, who doesn’t? And if we go even deeper, for lack of a better term, but if we think about it, how did we all get here? From kissing?”

  Several chuckles drift through the crowd, and it’s not just the media now. Hotel guests have come to watch and see what’s going on, as well as hotel employees.

  “When we celebrate the baby photos of our friends do we forget how that child was conceived?”

  More stifled laughter.

  I continue, “Greg, answer me this, you want your partner to want you, right? You want to be desired. You want her to show it. And if you were alone together under the stars wouldn’t it make you the happiest man on earth to have her touch you?” He swallows. Everyone is quiet and uneasy. “I know you’re wondering what to do with this much honesty. Which is crazy because what are we all afraid of? I’m not talking about rape, I’m talking about sex with someone you want. There’s nothing unhealthy about that, but we act like it’s wrong. Why? I mean, really…WHY?” Turning to the original journalist I targeted I smile, “What is your name?”

  Hypnotized, she says, “Greta Marcus.”

  “Greta. Can you imagine if you had to hide how you felt about your husband? Gorgeous ring by the way.”

  She holds up her diamond and murmurs, “Thank you.”

  “Wouldn’t that be terrible if you had to disguise how much you longed for his touch? Don’t you long for it?”

  She nods a little. “Yes.”

  “And you should! You should ache for him! We all want that. And we’re all searching for it. Every single one of you would rather be in the arms of someone you can’t get enough of rather than being here asking me about a private moment I shared with a man who never told me he was married.” My voice and body become extremely still. “That’s right. I didn’t know he was taken. And if his wife is watching, and I’m sure she is…” I lock onto the biggest camera to say, “Please know that wherever you are, Mrs. Kyrkos, I had no idea. And I’m so very sorry for hurting you. So are these lovely people. They only wanted a story because they need money to feed their children. They had no idea how badly this would scar your soul.”

  Heavy cameras sag a little more, and mouths shut in silence.

  I glance to my father. He pushes the elevator button and it whooshes open. The four of us step inside, facing the Press as more questions flare up. They’re as insistent as bees after you’ve kicked their hive, but I’ve said all I came to say. Whoever can hear me, will.

  As soon as we’re alone, Sofia whistles under her breath.

  Emma mutters, “Wow.”

  My father slips a comforting arm around me and kisses the side of my head. He releases me and exhales. “Your brothers are never going to let you live it down that you said ‘cock.’”

  Emma, Sofia and I start giggling. It grows to loud laughter where we’re falling over ourselves as Sofia cries out, “You want your husband, don’t you, New York Times?”

  “Hey Greg!” Emma cracks up. “Don’t call us sluts if you want a little action, buddy! You’re turning off half the nation!”

  Grinning in disbelief, Dad shakes his head. “You can all laugh, but my father is going to hate this.”

  The doors open to an empty hallway.

  Emma covers her mouth as we all pour out, “Oh no! Grandpa’s going to be out of his mind!”

  Sofia is laughing so hard she’s holding onto the wall to help make it to our room.

  I lock eyes with my father, realizing how this will affect him. “Grams and Grandma Nance, too, Dad.”

  He pulls out his vibrating phone. “Here comes the shit storm.”

  “I’m sorry!”

  “Are you kidding?” We stop walking, just he and I. My cousins are still in the giggles all the way down the hall. “This is the first time I’m going to enjoy our grapevine on crack. It’s going to be hilarious.” He chuckles, excusing himself to have some fun. “Jason! Yes, that was my sweet little girl saying cock on NBC. I blame you! What? No, it’s not my fault! You’re the bad influence! I’m a total saint!”

  In the hotel room my cousins are replaying their favorite moments to each other, laughing and reenacting the faces of people in the crowd. “Oh my, no! What is she saying!? I don’t like sex!” “Really? Because I just banged you in the sauna!” They crack up.

  Sitting down on one of our beds, I let my moment of courage sink in.

  Some people are terrified of snakes or spiders. For me it was always the Press. Probably because my first memory of them was laced with grief and uncertainty. I had connected the two in my mind. But not anymore.

  “I’m not afraid,” I whisper.

  Soph and Emma look over at me.

  I Love You, Daddy - Hannah

  Walking into the hallway I find my father grinning as he talks to Uncle Jaxson, who from the sound of things is having a great time with this as well.

  Upon sight of me, Dad hesitates. “Jax, hang on a sec. Hannah looks like she’s got something to say.”

  “Just to you,” I smile, sadness in my eyes.

  He frowns and tells my uncle, “Jaxson, I’ll call you back.” On a smile from something he hears, Dad shakes his head and says into the phone, “Do me a favor and tell Grams not to watch the television.” He laughs at the reply and hangs up, his face quickly becoming serious.

  “It’s spreading isn’t it? Did you call Mom yet?”

  I’ve been calling Jaimie, his wife, Mom since I was fifteen, even though to Tobias I described her as my stepmother. My real mom will always be my true mother. That’s just how things are in my heart.

  Pale green eyes flicker as Dad realizes he hasn’t. “You want me to phone her now?”

  “No, I didn’t come to ask that. I’m just…procrastinating.” Touching his arm, my voice is quiet and thoughtful. “Thank you for coming here, Dad, but I’m not riding in that helicopter.”

  His head tilts as a frown flashes, then dissipates as he realizes what I mean. “You’re staying in Boca.”

  “I’m not going to hide. Emma came here to have fun. We’re going to lie on the beach. Drink foofy drinks. Do girly stuff. And I’m going to live my life whether the public cares or not. Let them video us. We’ll act normal and they’ll get bored.”

  Wow. This feels so peculiar, and as I make this radical declaration, one the old me would have cringed at, there are tingles spreading down my neck and torso, a relief of tension I’ve clutched to me for way too long.

  Dad keeps blin
king and biting his bottom lip, glancing to the wall, the floor, and then finally back at me. “What if you run into him?”

  “I’ll act like I don’t know him.”

  “Hannah, I know what it’s like to be around someone you want, who you think has betrayed you. It’s…excruciating.”

  My hand floats to his shoulder. “Daddy, I’m not a little girl anymore. I have to go through this on my own now.”

  “I don’t want you to feel pain!”

  “I know. But that’s part of life, isn’t it? Aren’t we supposed to be ‘all in’? How am I going to do that when I’m hiding behind you? You have to set me free.”

  Tears jump to my father’s eyes as he glares at me, shocked and unable to express how badly he wants to argue, but can’t. “Hannah…”

  “I know, Dad. I forgive you.”

  As he blinks in confusion a tear slides down his cheek. He brushes it aside and croaks, “For what?”

  “For not knowing I existed. For not being there when I was born.”

  Strong arms encapsulate me and I throw mine around him, too. “I’m so sorry, Hannah.”

  My throat is aching as I choke out words we both need to hear, “It was a long time ago. We have to let it go now.”

  His grip tightens then he releases me and we step back, wiping our eyes. He nods to himself while staring at carpet worn thin by many travelers.

  “Tell Emma and Sofia…”

  “I will, Dad. But you know they’re probably eavesdropping.”

  He meets my eyes and we both quietly laugh that it’s true. He grabs my head and kisses the top of it, then inhales sharply before he releases me and walks down the hallway, pulling out his vibrating phone, staring at it and shoving it back into his pocket.

  I lean against the wallpaper and watch him disappear into the elevator. Before it closes, his fingers shoot through to stop it. He bends forward, poking his head out to say, “I love you, Hannah.”

  “I love you, too, Dad.”

  And then he’s gone.