“Well, it’s a couple things.” Jacob began to spew his theories. As he did, it all became even more incriminating than it had been in his mind. “The first was that trip to Miami, the one where she simply haaad to get away from the kids for a bit.”
Olivia laughed at his always perfect impression of Aubrey.
“She was supposed to be meeting friends there, but when I called Shelby, one of the friends she was allegedly ‘meeting,’ to talk about a local women’s event we were doing the week after, Shelby inadvertently made it crystal clear Aubrey had not been in Florida. Definitely. And she had not been with Aubrey. ‘Coincidentally,’” he said, with air quotes, “Roger Tiwali—you know the former secretary of state—happened to also be in Miami that weekend. My paranoid self checked. Then there were the handful of times when Roger’s assistant mentioned seeing her when she wasn’t scheduled to see him. One time I even tried to ask the governor about their meeting, and he didn’t even blink. He said they barely knew each other. Also, don’t you think it’s odd that we’d have the former secretary of state showing up at so many events recently? His endorsement is, according to Aubrey, ‘in the bag.’”
Olivia looked more and more amazed as Jacob talked. And she was almost smiling.
“Plus, well . . .” He paused, wondering if he should finish the sentence, but then remembered it was Olivia he was talking to. She was in the foxhole with him. “Gov would kill me if he knew I said anything about this. Actually I don’t really even know anything about it. But,” he whispered even more quietly than they had been, “Aubrey and the gov, they were kind of rocky for a while there. I don’t know the details, but I think he even moved out for a week or something before all the campaigning started.”
Olivia looked, understandably, shocked as Jacob continued to seep information. He felt so good telling someone, having someone to share the burden of the secret, the worry and the rationalization. “You are sworn to secrecy on this,” he added.
“Obviously. It’s kinda funny at this point that we’d have to say that.”
“Yeah.”
“So, do you think she’d leave him? And during the campaign?”
Jacob looked at Olivia, his relief turning a bit to guilt at saddling her with the upsetting information. “Aubrey? No way. He’s the product she’s selling in the sale of her life.”
“Yeah, I guess.” She almost seemed teary.
“You’ve seen her though enough now. She barely likes the guy.”
“Yeah, I guess that’s true.” Olivia paused and then asked, “Why doesn’t she love him?”
“Who knows! She thinks he’s lowbrow, not up to par with her. She’s constantly telling people he doesn’t read books. She comes one step short of calling him an idiot.”
“You think he loves her?”
Jacob shook his head. He had asked himself that question so many times, but still, he really wasn’t sure of the answer. “I don’t know. He definitely needs her constant approval, or wants it. I don’t know.” He glanced down at his watch. “Shit! I gotta get the speaking program started. I hate this place and its absent coverage. How can I keep track of time without the metronome buzzing of my BlackBerry?”
He sprang up from the chair and headed into the tent.
He called back, “Sorry to drop this on you, Liv. I had to tell someone.”
“It’s all good,” she said, smiling reassuringly. “We irregular people gotta stick together.”
As Olivia went to sleep that night she replayed the conversation with Jacob in her head over and over. It had to be true. Jacob knew these things. Plus, there were all those times Aubrey excused herself from events. All those furtive calls she would take. Poor Landon. That’s why he kissed me. He’s just lonely. I wonder if he knows. Of course he knows. Who could hide something like that? How could Aubrey not cherish him?
She tossed and turned, rolling around in the soft Pratesi sheets, wondering what this all meant. She knew she shouldn’t follow the thought path to where it was going, but it seemed impossible to avoid. Would they get divorced? Could there be a world where Landon Taylor would be single? She guiltily relished the notion of her dream man becoming a viable option and then quickly batted the thought from her head.
No. She scolded herself. You like this man. He has kids. A family. He has to be the president. You can’t want him to get divorced.
TWELVE
Conference calls were usually the bane of their existence, but Jacob and Olivia couldn’t wait to get on this one early on a Tuesday morning before the filing. The filing was three days away and there was 1.6 million in hand, way more than even the craziest goal they had set. Jacob sat across from Olivia in the conference room as she dialed the call-in number. It was a weekly call, but since the Hamptons and Martha’s Vineyard both fell within the last six days, the bottom line—the amount of money the campaign had collected and would report for this quarter—had changed drastically.
“Okay,” Billy said in his usual monotone, “everyone on?”
The nine participants—Jacob; Billy; Olivia; the press secretary, Peter; the political director, Ron Mixner; Addie, whom Olivia insisted be included since she had been such a big part of things; and two consultants who had helped on the events called out their names in a totally disorganized fashion. It always reminded Jacob of one of those childhood games where you would try to count to ten without anyone saying the same number at the same time.
Billy found it less amusing and without fail would stop everyone halfway through, saying, “All right, all right, let’s just get going.” Today was no exception. Jacob smiled, looking across at Olivia and enjoying how excited she was. Her hair had grown long and straggly and fell down over her face, which was visibly drawn and tired, but she remained pretty in spite of it all, and her optimism, though he chided her about it constantly, really had been a welcome addition to their usual campaign tone. He texted Taylor the call-in number one last time, hoping he would join as well. It was a fine line Jacob tried to walk, wanting Taylor to do things he thought would boost morale, but careful not to become a nag. Reminding him of birthdays, weddings, and other such events where a call would make a huge difference to someone had been a big part of Jacob’s job, but it had become harder to get the governor to make those calls with each passing day of the campaign. “It’s the thought that counts,” the governor had started saying with regularity. Jacob hoped it was the pressure of the schedule getting to the governor and not his ego, but on days like this, when he was waiting for Taylor to do something asked of him, he couldn’t help but waver in his confidence. Billy broke his chain of thought.
“Since there’s only one thing that actually matters now, let’s get to it. Olivia?”
Jacob piped up, buying the governor a few extra minutes, asking a quick question about the Times story they were waiting on, and hoped no one would call him out for not really needing to know the answer. As Peter answered the Times question, the phone beeped in.
“Hi, y’all. Hope I’m not interrupting,” the governor said in his booming voice, and Jacob smiled gratefully.
“Hello, Governor. Glad to have you on, sir.” Billy spoke with his regular formality.
“Did I miss the numbers?”
“No, sir.”
“So let’s hear ‘em! Did we hit one point three?” Jacob wasn’t sure what he appreciated more, the governor’s enthusiasm or how thrilled Olivia and Addie seemed that the governor would be on the call for their big news. He couldn’t help but congratulate himself for moving a lot of great pieces into a perfect puzzle.
“Olivia?” Billy called on her.
Olivia’s voice shook a bit. “Hello, sir. I’m happy to report we haven’t just hit one-three, we’ve surpassed it. It looks like we’ll file with one point six.”
“Shit!” Peter sounded off first, falling intuitively into the Brooklyn nature he had been actively working to sweeten with Southern etiquette, and then quickly retracted the curse. “Sorry, sir. That’s awesome, Oli
via!”
“No ‘sorry’ necessary, Peter,” the governor said in his slow, pensive mode. “That is just pheeenomenal, Olivia. And everyone. Team, this is great, just great. Sakes alive.”
Everyone chimed in with their congratulations, and Olivia and Addie beamed with pride.
“Why don’t we do a little party after the event Thursday? We need to celebrate and thank people.”
“Yes, let’s do it.” Jacob knew it would give him a great reason to stay a few more days and attempt to make up with Sophie. He had come to New York for the Hamptons event and worked out the schedule to stay for Sophie’s birthday. She wasn’t talking to him, but he was convinced he could save the relationship. Save the relationship, ha! More like win her back. Of course it hadn’t gone exactly as planned since he’d gotten dragged to one of Alek’s dinner parties and had showed up, much to Sophie’s dismay, late to her birthday party. He had tried to explain to her what a big deal it was that he was even able to be in New York for it at all, but like many campaign-related things, it fell on deaf ears. He would surely be able to fix it now.
“We’ll get it set,” Olivia said, falling back into her responsible tone.
Ideal, Jacob thought. It’s all ideal.
A who’s who of New York socialites showed up to the celebration. People moved around the room excitedly and the air seemed to be filled with a vociferously festive fervor, despite Olivia’s attempts to keep the party low-key. She had constantly reminded herself, with Jacob’s nagging help, that while they wanted to celebrate the filing and thank donors, they had to be extremely cautious of looking overconfident or celebratory without cause. Campaign Lesson #13: Celebrations in politics, at least publicly, were to be reserved for elections and nothing else. There were no balloons, no banners, and definitely, as she could hear Jacob saying, no sparkles! She glanced at the small cocktail tables, which were decorated with little white votives that the hotel put out for free and red apples that Olivia had run to the grocery store before the event to buy, in an attempt to decorate as cheaply as possible.
As she scanned her frugally elegant stage decoration, she caught the governor’s eye across the room. Alek, in black pants, a black sweater, and a Gucci belt, had him cornered and was barely missing him with the champagne glass that moved with his flapping arms. Alek’s short bangs were spread out across the very top of his forehead. She smiled to herself at the sight of the governor looking so sweetly trapped, obviously trying to push Alek toward the end of whatever story he was telling. With one eyebrow raised, Taylor noticed her and silently called for help. Olivia put down her soda and walked swiftly over.
“Hi, Alek.”
“Ahhh, se princess!” He flung an arm around her, spilling more of his champagne.
“Such a great night, isn’t it?” she said. “And you were such a huge part of it. I keep telling the governor I just followed your lead this quarter!”
Alek beamed at the compliment, which, as all compliments were, amplified when it was said in front of the candidate.
“It’s true.” The governor followed suit. “I am so lucky to have you as a friend, Alek.” He looked at his old buddy with sincerity. “I hope one day I’ll have the chance to be half the friend to you!”
Alek almost bowed his head humbly. “Thank you, thank you,” he said. “Like you say, it’s se thought sat counts, and sat thought counts!” He cackled a bit, drinking more champagne. “Like my mom used to say, ‘Ne imey sto rubley, a imey sto druzey.’ Don’t have a hundred rubles, have a hundred friends.”
Olivia enjoyed their preserved friendship but knew she needed to get the governor away for a break.
“I so hate to interrupt you but I need to steal the governor away to take a quick press call.”
“Ahhh, of course! Of course, you take him. I just vas telling him we are going to do big event in California.” Alek continued on as if she hadn’t interrupted.
“That is amazing! Let me get the governor on this call and I’ll come back and we’ll plan!” Olivia did her utter best to gin up enthusiasm for more work as she gently grabbed the governor’s arm and pulled him away.
As they got out of earshot, Olivia’s hand dropped off his arm. Taylor caught it and grabbed her by the wrist.
“Nice save.” He slid his hand down and squeezed her fingers. “Hold room.” He stepped in front of her and let go of her hand. Yanni was walking toward him.
Jacob grabbed her from the other side and slipped a paper into her hand.
“Angel. Calls. Must be made.”
“On it, Charlie! But cover for me with Yanni so I can get him out.” They worked the room like they were executing a pick and roll. Jacob headed straight for Yanni, and Olivia pulled on the governor’s elbow, leading him to the hold room. She looked down at the paper Jacob had handed her. It had about five names and numbers scribbled on it. Perfect. She figured she could add three or four of her own calls to the list and have him back out in the party in twenty minutes.
Olivia walked into the hold room, which was actually just another part of the ballroom, sectioned off by a sliding wall they used to divide the huge catering hall when needed. The governor followed behind her. As the door clicked closed, Olivia looked around, surprised at how muffled the noise of the party was from in here. The room was large and empty, save for one table with a phone, four bottles of water, and a bowl of pretzels. So glad I remembered to set this up ahead of time.
Olivia headed for the table, but the governor grabbed the back of her waist, spinning her into him like they were doing a tango.
“I—”
“How great is this?” he asked, standing way too close.
Olivia breathed. “It’s great, I—” Her mind instantly went to the numbers and the party. She didn’t even have time for an ellipse. He pulled her tightly into him. And he kissed her.
His tongue moved hers back and forth. It was softer than she remembered. And it tasted of the pretzels from the ballroom tables, mixed with the spearmint Tic Tacs he was constantly popping. His lips pressed up against her mouth as his hands grabbed her sides. All the exhaustion and excitement came rushing over her. She let go into his arms.
“I—”
“No. Don’t say it. Don’t say anything.” As he spoke she buried her head into his shoulder and breathed in his smell. It was that same scent of the outdoors that she remembered from the hotel in Georgia. “I’m not sorry this time,” he was saying into her hair. “This is one of the greatest moments of this campaign and it’s you I want to celebrate with. It’s you I want to kiss. I see myself differently through your eyes. Everyone picks me apart. But you, you pick me up.”
He went back to kissing her and she let him. She wanted to. His kiss was perfect. He was perfect. The party roared outside the door. The door that doesn’t lock! Oh my God. Is it even closed all the way? Holy crap. She pulled away from him. “We can’t do this here.”
“Fine, fine,” he said in agreement. “But not because we can’t do this. We can.” He spoke with an authority that thrilled Olivia. For a moment, she stopped arguing the point.
“Come on.” She pulled him to the table. “I need you to make a few calls, then I’ll let you get right back to that conversation with Alek.” She laughed.
“The only conversation I want to finish is the long-overdue one with you,” he said. He looked at her longingly and then pushed himself away from her. He sat and grabbed the list from her hand. It was crinkled from the grip of her sweaty palms. He smoothed it out on the table and lifted one eyebrow at her as he began to dial.
Olivia smiled. He made the calls, his feet up on the table, leaning back in a more relaxed fashion than she had ever seen him. She remembered how his shirt lay wrinkled halfway up his back that night in the hotel in Georgia. She sat back in her chair, dazed, watching his eyes watch hers. One after another he made the calls, speaking with a kind of steady energy and focus that gave no hint of the eyebrows he was raising at Olivia. She put her head down, unable to hold his gla
nce without seeming embarrassingly giddy.
Before the last call he put his phone on the table and moved his chair closer to her. He whispered. “I love the way you look at me. I can’t wait to kiss you again.”
She faced him, staring him square in the eye, suppressing her need to scream out in joy, and said with mock sternness, “Make the call, Governor.”
He gave her a peck on the lips. She flinched at the strange familiarity of his kiss. Then he obligingly sat back down and began dialing the number. She listened to him intently but barely heard a word. I kissed him. He wants to kiss me again. The words kept replaying in her head so quickly that no other information could go in or out. This time when he was finishing the call, he grabbed her leg just above the knee.
“Let’s get this party over with so we can conversate.”
She laughed, partly at the word but more so to cover up the rush of feeling that filled her body from his touch. She grabbed up her papers and followed behind him with a skip. I just skipped. I skipped in front of the governor. What am I, six years old? As she moved in front of him to open the door he grabbed her shoulder and pulled it back toward him. She could smell his breath on her neck.
“See.” He spoke in a jubilant whisper. “You. Later.”
Jacob glanced over Yanni’s shoulder as the governor followed Olivia out of the hold room. He couldn’t help but grin. The governor looked happy. It had been genius of Jacob to hire Olivia for the campaign. Genius. She threw him a thumbs-up, which he knew meant his calls got made. The governor was reaching out to the donors he needed to, endorsements were rolling in, and the fundraising goal that had seemed so outrageous four months ago had been surpassed. Senator Kramer was now their only real challenge and his numbers had been steadily dropping due to his botched appearance on Meet the Press. Kramer had made an analogy that did not go over well with the viewers and it had gone viral in minutes. Jacob had even heard from a friend that Kramer would file with only five hundred thousand. It was perfect, and Jacob, though still young, was seasoned enough to feel it.
Domestic Affairs Page 22
