“Understood. Yes, I want the job. Definitely. Thank you so much. I promise I won’t let you down.” I wanted to hug him or something, but I was pretty sure he would expire of a heart attack if I did. I settled for a smile instead.
“Good. You can start tomorrow. The hiding out has gone on long enough.” He rose from the couch. “I should get back to Will’s.”
“How’s he doing?”
“Not good. He set up a press conference. He’s ending his campaign.”
My jaw dropped. “Since when?”
We’d talked a few times the last few days, and he’d filled me in on the leak, but he’d never mentioned plans to end his campaign. There was no way I was letting him give up.
“He thinks the only way to keep you is to step down from public life. He’s worried his campaign will only fuel this story. He wants to spare you that.”
“That’s ridiculous. He can’t step down. It would be a huge mistake.”
He had a shot at winning, and more importantly, he would make an excellent state senator. He had the ability to change people’s lives. He couldn’t throw that away because of me.
“Agreed, but he’s not listening to me anymore. The boy’s thinking with his heart, not his head.” Mitch delivered the words like they were blasphemy.
“I’ll talk to him.”
“That would help, but I’m not sure it’ll be enough. He needs something to give him an edge to weather this. He needs to win. We both know there’s only one person with enough power to save Will’s campaign. His grandfather isn’t enough. He’s a family member; of course, he’s going to defend Will. He’s older now, out of the game. He has respect, but his power doesn’t have the kind of teeth we need for something like this. Your father is the problem, and the best solution.”
He was right, of course. I just hated what would come next.
“Have you reached out to his campaign?”
“I have. His campaign manager alternated between telling me to go fuck myself and telling me to fuck off. They’re pissed, they’re in damage-control mode, and I promise you they are digging up whatever dirt they can to shift the focus off of him.”
I closed my eyes. “I have to go talk to him, don’t I?”
“I don’t see another way. You’re the only one with enough leverage to make your father play ball.” Mitch sighed. “I know it’s a lot to ask. I know you’re estranged from him, know just how shitty he’s been to you. But no matter what I do, I can’t see a way around this for Will. Not without your father’s involvement.” He walked toward the door.
“It’s up to you. Will’s young, there will be other elections for him. Maybe time is all he needs to bounce back from this. But I really believe in his political future, in the good he can do his constituents. I’d hate to see him throw that away. If you want to be with him, I can sell the two of you as a couple. We can move past this, the worst is already out. But we have to defuse this scandal, and I’m worried that unless we get your father on board, he’s going to throw both of you under the bus.”
• • •
When I was eight years old, walking away from my father’s table at the Hay-Adams, I made myself a promise. I vowed I would never acknowledge him publicly or privately, and any time I saw him, I’d treat him as though he were beneath my notice, just as he’d done to me.
It was time to break that promise.
I dressed to kill today: bright pink suit, high heels, and my one designer bag, every detail meticulously planned. I spent nearly an hour on my hair, did my nails, obsessed over my makeup. I was going into battle, and there was no way I’d leave a chink in my armor.
My walk I borrowed from my mother. Each step, each thrust of my hip, each extension of my mile-long legs, said, watch me. I held my head high, my eyes ice.
I was done being the dirty little secret.
I rode the elevator up to the top of the building that housed my father’s campaign headquarters. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that being in an elevator again, even a different one, had me simultaneously turned on and embarrassed. I sought out the camera with the little red light and barely resisted the urge to flip it off.
The doors opened with a whine, and I stepped out into the plush offices that represented the seat of my father’s power. He had the kind of view of D.C. reserved for a king looking down on his little kingdom.
I walked through the rows of cubicles, refusing to make eye contact with anyone. I heard the whispers, the buzz growing louder with each step I took. They should have made me nervous, but instead they lit a fire in my blood. My father’s biggest scandal was coming home to roost.
I stopped in front of the large office in the back. His secretary jerked her head up at the sound of my heels against the hardwood floor. Annoyance filled her eyes, and then recognition dawned, and her jaw dropped.
I flashed her my most lethal smile, also borrowed from my mother.
“I’m here to see Senator Reynolds.”
She didn’t speak, her slack-jawed expression seemingly frozen on her face.
“I’m assuming he’s in his office.”
“Do you have an appointment?” she sputtered.
I flashed the smile again. “No. Is he in his office?”
She nodded. “But he won’t see you without an appointment.”
This time the smile that flashed across my face was all mine. “Oh, I think he will.”
She blinked. “One minute.”
I waited while she knocked on the giant wood door, slipping inside his inner sanctum. I could feel the weight of dozens of eyes on my back, could hear the voices that were now much louder than whispers, wondering what I was doing here. I blocked it all out, my attention focused on the man behind that door. All of my attention gearing up for battle.
His secretary came back, her face pale. “He’ll see you.”
“Thank you.”
I pushed my shoulders back, took a deep breath, and entered the lion’s den.
• • •
Neither one of us spoke. We faced off like a pair of gladiators, my father sitting behind his Louis XIV desk, me in front of it, refusing to sit, refusing to give him even the slightest power advantage.
I wasn’t fucking around.
I studied him as I would any opponent. Fine, that wasn’t entirely true. There was a part of me that couldn’t resist the urge to notice the similarities between us. We still had the same face. Strangely enough, despite the thirteen years that had passed since that day at the Hay-Adams, he didn’t look much older. Either we had amazing genes, or he had an excellent plastic surgeon.
He was a handsome man, even in his fifties. He had that same golden, wealthy look I so often gave Will shit about, and yet they couldn’t have been more different. Nobility was in Will’s bones, in the way he carried himself, in his smiles, how he treated everyone like they mattered, in the light in his eyes. My father was cloaked in nobility, as if it were something he could put on and take off when it suited him. He was good—very, very good. But there was no light in his eyes, no kindness in his smile. Only power. He played a good man, whereas Will was one.
“What do you want?” he barked.
I didn’t bother responding with anything other than the truth. I figured I got my low tolerance for bullshit from him, which was fine. I had no desire to turn this into a social call.
“I want you to back Will Clayton in the election. I want you to hold a press conference saying you support him. I want you to call in every favor you have, every piece of blackmail you’ve amassed, every inch of political capital at your disposal, and I want you to get him elected.”
There was a pause, and then he laughed, the sound chilling. “I’d wondered about you. Wondered if there was more there when I learned you were working at Price. But you really are just as stupid as your mother. Little more than a whore, selling yourself to the highest bidder with the biggest checkbook. Throwing your whole fucking career away for a man who will never take you seriously. Please.
You come in here with this fairy tale. That will never happen. Will Clayton made his bed, he’s going to have to lie in it.”
His words were pointed arrows, each one designed to wound with deadly accuracy. I understood now how he’d gotten where he was, how he played dirty and destroyed anyone who blocked his path. He didn’t just beat his opponents; he annihilated them.
Mitch had been right; I was my father’s daughter. But he was also wrong. My father fought for his own personal gain and for political power. Now I fought for love.
My face was a blank mask as he hurled insults at me. I would die before I gave a motherfucking inch, before I let him see his blows had any effect on me at all. I let him finish his little speech, and then my lips curved as I dropped my nuclear bomb.
“It’s funny that you would mention making your own bed. The way I see it, you made yours twenty-one years ago. You have two choices. You can publicly support Will, and you can privately harness momentum for him within the party, or you can watch everything you’ve worked for, your little kingdom of bullshit promises and backroom deals, wither and die before your very eyes. I’m not my mother. I’m not stupid, I’m not emotional, and I’m not easily defeated. I will fucking bury you.
“I will call every single media outlet I can think of from the fucking Georgetown University newspaper to People magazine, and I will sell my story. I will be on every TV show, every radio show. I will whore myself out to any interviewer who wants to hear all of Senator Edward Reynolds’s secrets. I will write a book. I’ll sell my story to fucking Lifetime. I’ll make it a family affair. I’ll get my mother involved. I bet she has some fascinating stories about the private side of one of our country’s most esteemed senators.”
I paused, watching as his skin changed from tanning-bed gold, to red, to purple.
“I will make it my mission to bury you, so that when I’m done you’re such a fucking joke that you can’t get a job as a small-town mayor, much less run for the Senate again. And just when you think you have a shot at reviving your career, I’ll come back and do it all over again. I will do whatever it takes. I will lie, I will tell the absolute truth; I will dedicate my entire life to ruining you. You do not want me to be your enemy.
“You think I’m just a stupid girl because I look like my mother? I’m a beautiful girl, with a sad story, and nothing but time. The media will love me. I have money and power behind me now. Not to mention I have your old campaign manager, Mitch Anders.
“Did I mention I’m going to work for him? I’m sure he knows where the bodies are buried. And if he doesn’t”—I pulled a file folder out of my bag and tossed it onto his desk— “I have these. I’ve been gathering dirt on you since I was a kid, and if you don’t believe I have enough ammunition to take you down, read them.” I smirked. “Copies, of course.
“It’s an election year. You’re chairman of the Senate Intelligence Committee. Do you really want to lose everything because you wouldn’t play ball? You’re too smart for that.
“You’re going to call a press conference and back Will. We’re going to make up a bullshit excuse about how you made a mistake early in your marriage, one your wife forgave, you found God, wanted to shelter me from the public eye, blah blah blah. We’ll smile and pose for pictures, and we’ll take the story out of the media’s hands. You’ll keep your seat and your power, and Will gets elected to the Virginia Senate.”
I tossed a piece of paper onto his desk. “Here’s my cell number. Text me when you’ve made up your mind. But do it fast because I already have four interviews lined up for tomorrow. What I say depends on you, Senator.” I turned away, heading toward the door. Then I stopped in my tracks, looking back at him.
“And in case you were thinking of doing what you wanted to do twenty-one years ago and killing me, I’ve written a statement, and left very detailed instructions. Have a nice afternoon.”
Checkmotherfuckingmate.
Chapter Twenty-eight
Rumor has it a series of press conferences are being called by all parties involved in Elevatorgate. We can’t wait to hear the next installment . . .
—Capital Confessions blog
Jackie
I power-walked my ass into Mitch’s offices, Eye of the Tiger blaring on my iPod headphones.
I felt like I’d just won an Olympic gold medal, which, translated into political terms, I sort of had. Adrenaline pumped through my veins, and I felt ready to take on the world.
I fucking loved the game.
He would agree to the deal; it required little to no effort for him, and it saved his ass as well as Will’s. No matter how deep my father’s loathing ran, or how hard I’d hit his ego, he loved himself too much to jeopardize his career.
I pulled out the headphones, heading into Mitch’s office.
His consulting practice was housed in a much smaller, less modern building than Will’s headquarters. It hadn’t been professionally decorated; everything was just a bit off, not quite right. The furniture didn’t match, a few of the paintings were hung askew; it was completely different from Price and totally Mitch.
He looked up from his work, his gaze expectant. “How did it go?”
The grin I’d been holding back slid onto my face. “He’ll go for it. I’m just waiting for confirmation.”
Mitch smiled, the first real smile I’d ever seen on him. “You gave him hell, didn’t you?”
“Yeah, I did.”
His smile widened. “I’m proud of you, really fucking proud of you. Bravest fucking thing you could have done.”
My smile wobbled slightly, tears filling my eyes. I felt the adrenaline crash coming, my legs shaking as I sank down onto one of the overstuffed chairs in front of Mitch’s desk.
I’d somehow just faced the man I’d spent my life hating, and walked away unscathed. He couldn’t touch me. Not anymore. I had no more secrets, no more shame. For the first time in my entire life, I felt really and truly free.
My phone vibrated, and I pulled it out of my bag, staring down at the message that flashed across the screen.
Have Mitch coordinate with my office.
Tears slipped down my cheeks. I’d done it. I’d fucking done it.
I looked up at Mitch. “He’s going to do it. He’s going to issue a statement and back Will.”
“Thank god.”
We both sat there, relief filling Mitch’s office. I alternated between wanting to laugh and wanting to cry. Another tear slipped down my cheek.
Mitch nodded toward his door. “You did good, kid.” His voice was gruff. “Go set up your new office. We’ll work out your schedule with your remaining classes, and come up with something that suits us both before your graduation in May.”
I nodded as I got up on shaky legs.
“And Jackie?”
“Yeah?”
“Pull it together. There’s no crying in politics.”
“Got it.”
• • •
“Excuse me, I’m looking for Jackie Gardner.”
My head jerked up at the sound of my name. A stunning brunette who looked like she’d walked off the pages of Town & Country stood near the office entrance talking to one of the assistants. I recognized her immediately. Apparently today was the day for me to meet the Reynolds family.
Our gazes met across the office. Any other week, meeting my secret half sister would have been momentous. Today it pretty much felt like par for the course. I was too numb, too overwhelmed by everything that had happened to feel much more.
She walked toward me. “I’m Blair.”
I nodded. “I recognize you from your pictures. I’m Jackie.”
Awkwardness filled the space between us as nerves filtered through me, eclipsing some of the calm.
“Sorry to bother you at work, but could we talk somewhere privately?” She hesitated. “If you’re not too busy.”
I didn’t know what to say to her, didn’t know why she was here. My ass-kicking quota had been met for the day, and now I wante
d to crawl under the covers and hibernate for a week. And yet there was nothing hostile in her expression or in her voice. She seemed as uncomfortable as I was. And Will called her a friend.
“Sure. We can sit in my office.”
I walked ahead of her, catching sight of Mitch watching us. He raised an eyebrow at me, and I flashed him a reassuring smile. I closed the door behind her and invited Blair to sit in one of the chairs.
“Sorry to just show up. I didn’t have your number, and I didn’t want to bother Will with everything going on.”
“No worries.”
I studied her across the desk, my curiosity getting the best of me. I couldn’t really see myself in her, didn’t think we looked that much alike. I wondered if she did the same thing with me.
She laughed nervously. “This is a little awkward.”
I cracked a smile, struggling for normal. “Yeah, it is.”
I’d had this image of my sisters in my head for years. Perhaps unfairly, I’d imagined Blair as snobby and cold, envisioned her rejecting me. The reality was something else entirely. For the first time, I wondered if there could be more.
She sighed, folding her hands in her lap. “I’ve been wanting to meet you ever since Will told me about you. He explained that you probably needed time before you’d be ready to meet us, but with everything going on, I wanted you to know that you can count on me for anything you need. If you want me to release a statement of support or anything, just tell me. I’d be happy to, same thing with our sister Kate. She wanted to meet you, but I was worried it would be too overwhelming with both of us here.”
It was the phrase, our sister, that did it. I didn’t know what it was about those words or her presence here, but the second she said them, my eyes filled with tears. Jesus. I hardly ever cried, now twice in as many hours.
“Sorry.” I grabbed a tissue from my desk, my face flaming. “It’s been a bizarre day.”
Blair reached across my desk, grabbing my hand and squeezing. It was the strangest thing, but the second she touched me, I felt a sense of calm. She had presence; a sort of gravitas about her that said shit did not go down on her watch. She was two years older than me, and yet those two years felt like so much more in the face of her calm.
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