Domestic Affairs

by Bridget Siegel

  Olivia could tell Jacob was only half listening.

  “Jacob. Alek is missing. He didn’t show up to the arraignment, and no one knows where he is.”

  “Shit!” Jacob yelled into the phone. “Are you kidding me?”

  “No. I’m—”

  Addie ran into the office looking like she was on fire.

  “Olivia! Someone from the Pennsylvania attorney general’s office is on the phone.”

  “I gotta get this, Jacob. I’ll call you right back.”

  “I have to board. If I’m in the air, call Billy and Peter. Make sure they know the details before anything leaks to the press.”

  “Okay.”

  She switched lines without taking a breath. “Hello?”

  “Is this Miss Olivia Greenley?” She was beginning to hate that question.

  “It is.”

  The man on the line introduced himself as Bryan Caplin and described quickly his titles at the attorney general’s office, all of which slid past Olivia’s hearing.

  “I assume you have heard that Aleksander Yerkhov failed to appear at his arraignment this morning?”

  “I was just informed of this by his lawyer.” Olivia tried to talk in legalese, which to her just meant more direct words and in actuality probably just resulted in her pronouncing syllables more emphatically.

  “Miss Greenley, do you know where Alek is?”

  “I do not.” Suddenly she was aware that her legalese was sounding more robotic than legal. “I have no clue,” she added in. “I’m really worried.” Too far? It was true though, and blurting it out was like exhaling.

  Mr. Caplin’s voice didn’t waver. “Miss Greenley, we had a wiretap on Mr. Yerkhov’s phones. You are the last known person he contacted, and we know he asked for your address.”

  “Yes. He did.” She felt like she was in the midst of a bad cop show. “He wanted to send me a thank-you for being his friend.” It sounded so stupid out of context.

  “Miss Greenley . . .”

  Olivia wished everyone would stop calling her that.

  “I am not your lawyer but I need to advise you, as of ten o’clock this morning, Alek Yerkhov became a federal fugitive. If you are hiding him or helping him get away, you are aiding and abetting a federal fugitive, which is a federal crime.”

  “Ohmygod!” Her mind was good at thinking about possible outcomes, but this one came totally out of the blue. “No! I’m not! I mean, definitely not. I have a one-bedroom walkup. I wouldn’t even have anywhere to put him!” The outlandishness of that explanation didn’t even faze Olivia. It was true. A fugitive. Her, hiding a fugitive? It was so surreal.

  “Okay, Miss Greenley.” The stagnant-toned man continued, seeming to believe her. “If you do hear from him or have any information regarding the case, please contact me at once.”

  “I will. Of course. Yes.” Olivia hung up, shaken to the bone. She dialed Jacob immediately, but it went straight to voicemail. She tried Billy next, who listened intently and brought Peter in on the call for the press part.

  “Press hasn’t caught word of any of this yet, to my knowledge,” Peter said, trying to reassure them.

  Olivia hadn’t ever heard Billy so silent. As she hung up the phone she had the crushing feeling that she, the young, inexperienced New Yorker, was bringing scandal and evil down on this nice, down-south campaign. She went to her door to close it and stood with her back against it, as if she could keep the world out by pushing hard enough.

  Jacob landed in New York to the worst kinds of emails—a barrage from Olivia, Billy, Peter, each one containing the simple phrase “call me.” They might seem to be the best type of email to get, having no long message and requiring no response. But to Jacob, “call me” meant it was something bad enough, urgent enough, that it couldn’t be put in an email or even a pin. He walked through the airport, head down, thinking about how thankful he was that he had been able to convince the governor to stay in Georgia. It wasn’t great that he was missing the Service Employees International Union meeting, as they were one of their biggest and most important union supporters. Okay, it was terrible that he was missing the meeting, but now, with Alek on the run, the last place the governor needed to be was in New York, where the press would be all over the story. And the other last place I need him to be is at Olivia’s. The thought of the press finding Alek contacting Olivia was bad enough, but to tie in the governor with Olivia would be the beginning of the end. A federal fugitive and an affair. How the hell did he wind up in this mess? How did his perfect campaign wind up in such ruins?

  Fuck it. He couldn’t hold in his cynicism. Maybe I want the whole campaign to be taken down.

  The montage in his mind of Landon as his political hero was long gone. Now all he could see, despite trying to block it out, were the lies. He had made a deal with himself, something he had found himself doing more and more of late. If Taylor insisted on going to New York, Jacob would quit. It would be the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back.

  As had been happening though, the few times Jacob thought he would draw a line in the sand, Taylor had made the right choice. A growing part of Jacob wished Taylor would do something that would force Jacob to leave. Maybe Alek would be the final break.

  Scrolling through his emails, Jacob felt an overwhelming sense of exhaustion. He got in a cab and leaned his head against the window. Even his mantra of Calm, contain, control seemed futile. On a campaign, when the dream was gone, the work became simply unbearable. And now he would have a federal fugitive to deal with. There would be lawsuits and drama. Just as he was pulling up to the Sheraton, home to all political events, his BlackBerry buzzed with Billy’s number.

  “Hey, Harriston.”

  “Hey, Billy. Any fallout from Alek yet?”

  “Uh, no.” Billy sounded weirdly uninterested in the situation. “Y’all spoken to the governor this mornin’?”

  Jacob had to think for a minute as the days seemed to run into each other more often than not. “We texted early, like six a.m. Why? What’s up?”

  “Just haven’t heard a peep from him and I spoke to Aubrey, who told me they had a fight and also that we wouldn’t be getting Secretary Tiwali’s endorsement, though I haven’t the foggiest idea what one has to do with the other.”

  Jacob bent his head forward, wondering how Billy could still be so in the dark. And now Jacob himself was lying to this lovely man. He had joined the circle of liars. “Ugh, Billy, I’m sorry. I’m sure he’s just getting some air and she . . . well . . . .”

  Billy sounded more jadedly accepting than Jacob had ever heard him. “Yeah. You’re probably right.” He paused, then regained his comforting fatherly tone. “You okay up there? You need anything?”

  He lied again. “No. All good, Billy. Thanks.”

  Olivia stared at the email open on her computer for a good ten minutes. The routine continuation of the day did nothing to take her out of the dreamy haze that filled the air around her. After explaining the situation calmly to Addie, Olivia had gone into linear mode.

  They had two events the week after Iowa, one in New York and one in DC, both planned to play on the impending Iowa win. Addie needed to call through the RSVP lists, and Olivia needed to hammer the hosts to come through with their commitments. None of it did what Olivia really intended it to do, which was to distract her from the situation with Alek. And her isolation from the governor. She got up to get coffee, but as she walked through the hallways, the world seemed even more hazy. She could hear phones going off and people talking in the background, but the sounds were so she felt she would surely pass out. That would be a solution, she thought, laughing to herself.

  She got her coffee and scrolled through her BlackBerry. “GLT” came up in red. She stopped and closed her eyes before reading it. Please don’t let this be bad. She hadn’t heard from him all day.

  Hey, baby. Where are you?

  She didn’t know whether to scream or cry. What world exactly was he living in?
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br />   It’s 5:30. Shockingly I’m in the office. She couldn’t help the sarcasm. A response came immediately.

  Go home.

  Huh?

  Leave the office and go home, there’s something there for you.

  What is it? Not in the mood.

  Olivia, go home. He sent this text twice and then added in that it was an order. She finally gave in.

  OK. She rolled her eyes, imagining throwing the bouquet of flowers he sent into the East River. The thought of getting out of the office, which felt today like a cage, was good even if it was for fifteen minutes. She walked to Addie’s office.

  “Addie, I’m calling this a day.”

  Addie looked at her with a sorrowful helplessness. “I’m really sorry.”

  “No, please. You’ve been a huge help. I just think we should cut our losses on this one. Go to dinner with your boyfriend or something fun. No work the last half of this day.”

  There was too much to be done to be leaving at five thirty p.m., but Olivia was at her breaking point. She’d go home, see whatever stupid thing Landon had delivered, and then come back to work. She relished the idea of coming back and having the office to herself. Addie was smart enough after six months of campaign life to leave immediately when given the option and not risk a mind change or, worse, a phone call that would cancel the decision. Olivia, on the other hand, had no alternative to taking her time; her body was moving in slow motion. She dragged herself out of the building and jumped in a cab. Stupid Olivia, you probably won’t have a job in one month. Now is not the time to take a cab.

  At her building, she stopped at the Italian restaurant downstairs.

  “Hey, Gianni. Did something come for me?”

  “No, no, cara. Non ancora. Not yet.”

  “Okay, thanks, Gianni.” There’s not even flowers, she complained to herself. She started to walk into the building, but a familiar voice stopped her.

  “Hey, baby.”

  Olivia’s whole body felt as though it was crumbling inside.

  “Landon.” He stood behind her, two plastic grocery bags in hand, wearing jeans, a sweater, and his Great American Vending Machine Company baseball hat pulled far down, almost over his eyes.

  “Let us in so I can give you that hug you need.”

  He didn’t give me up. This is what they mean when they say people melt, she thought as she felt her insides dissolve.

  She opened the door and pushed into the lobby, where he dropped the bags and bear-hugged her. She bit into her bottom lip and grabbed on to him with whatever strength she could muster.

  “What are you doing here? I thought . . . Jacob said . . .”

  “Coincidentally Henley was on his way to New York, so I asked him to stop in Atlanta and let me stow away.” He grinned.

  “But they canceled your stop in New York. Does anyone know you’re here?”

  “Henley, and now you. Come on.” He led her up the stairs. “It took you so long to get here, the Chinese food might be cold.”

  “Well, if I knew this was the delivery, I might have moved a little quicker.”

  “What were you expecting?”

  “I have no idea. Flowers?”

  “Didn’t have a chance to get those.”

  “This is soooo much better.”

  As they got inside, Landon turned her back to the door and kissed her. It was one of those long kisses that consumed her. She pulled herself away, almost afraid of losing herself completely. She was mad at him, so mad at him, but she loved him. She knew she shouldn’t. It wasn’t right, but it was everything.

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “Baby, this is not your fault.”

  “It is. I made you stay friends with him. I forced him on the campaign. I should have seen this coming.”

  “It’s not your job to vet them. I’ve known the man for years. No one could have seen this coming. Come on. Let’s have some food.”

  Olivia smiled, so glad to have someone there with her. Not someone; Landon. The anger slipped away, replaced by the primal need for this person who needed no explanation of what was at stake, who knew Alek, who knew her. She cleared off the mess on her coffee table and started to spread out the meal. As always, it was exactly what she would have ordered, a million different things that didn’t make sense together at all.

  “The thing is,” she called to him as he pulled out the vodka he had left in her freezer, “I know I should be mad and afraid, but really I’m so worried about him.”

  “Of course you are. I am too, baby.”

  “How do you do that? How do you always make my crazy okay?”

  “’Cause I like your crazy. Alek has been a good friend. And he’s not guilty as far as we know.” He poured out two vodkas as he talked. She looked at him longingly until he kissed her and grabbed her around her waist, pulling her down to the couch. She leaned her head on his shoulder. “Come on.” He patted her on the knee. “Let’s dig into this food. I’m starved.”

  She sat back with a plate of chicken and broccoli and pulled her feet up under her. As he leaned forward to get his own plate of dumplings, she reached out to touch his back. It was almost a subconscious move to prove to herself that he was real. He turned his head and grinned at her.

  “Hey, baby,” he said with a comforting tone, as if he knew exactly what she needed.

  “Hey.” She smiled, caught. Then she paused and looked at him. “Hey, Landon, thank you.”

  He put his plate down and ran his hand through the top of her hair. “I love you. It’s going to be okay.”

  And with that she almost believed it would be.

  Forty-five minutes into an episode of White Collar, the buzzer at her door rang. Landon shot up, jarred by it as much as she was. She walked over to the intercom, head rushing with what she would do if it was Alek. Or Jacob. She closed her eyes and pressed the button.

  “Yes?”

  “Ciao, bella.”

  “Oh, hey, Gianni.” The relief swept through her body.

  “That delivery you were asking about, the UPS? Ronnie just came with it. Eets here.”

  “Okay, thanks, Gianni, be right down for it.” She turned to Landon. “I bet it’s Jonah and Simon’s contributions. They said they would send it here instead of the office.”

  She bounced down the steps and entered the restaurant. It hummed with a vivacious dinner crowd. Olivia looked around, happy that people were out and about. The world was going on and she got to go back upstairs and be with the man she loved. Gianni handed her the UPS envelope, and her eyes traveled to the sender: Alek Yerkhov. She tried to say thank you without letting her horror show as she turned around and left the restaurant. On the walk up the stairs she warily pulled the paper tab from one side to the other. Landon stood up as she walked in, clearly moved by the whiteness of her face.

  “What is it?”

  “Something from Alek.” He moved in to her as she pulled at the letter. Her eyes scanned down the sentences, processing them in a manically quick way.

  “To whom it concerns . . . Can’t go on . . . made mistakes . . . so sorry.” Then the last line, “I don’t want a funeral. I just want Olivia Greenley to handle my remains.”

  Olivia moved reflexively to the couch and fell back. The letter slipped down to the tips of her fingers and onto the ground as tears began to fall. Landon stayed standing, immobile.

  “It’s a suicide letter. He’s going to kill himself.” She spoke quietly, unsure of the gray emotion that was swirling around her body. “I . . .” She looked up at Landon, hoping he was falling onto the couch with her so she could bury her face in him. Instead he was slipping his arms briskly through the sleeves of his jacket and stepping into his shoes.

  He looked at her, shaking his head. “This isn’t good. You’ve got to call the campaign lawyer. Yes,” he said, confirming his own thought, “call Ethanson.”

  Olivia looked up at him in shock. The haze that had filtered around her now seemed to condense into quicksand.


  “You what? I what?” The words barely came out of her mouth.

  Landon didn’t stop. “Call the lawyer right away. I can’t be here.” He had rare panic in his voice as he opened the door and walked out.

  Olivia looked down at the note on the floor, up at the closed door, and back down again, feeling a total inability to comprehend the pieces of the last ten minutes.

  “But he’s your friend! Your friend is going to die!” she pointlessly yelled at the door.

  Pull yourself together, she told herself, her hands visibly shaking. He’s right. Call the lawyer. She picked up her phone, looking for Jackie Ethanson’s number, and began to scroll down the list of contacts. She stopped at Jacob’s name, remembering he was in New York, and dialed.

  “J?”

  “Liv? You okay?”

  “No.”

  “Another insurance agent die?”

  She let out a breath and tried to compose herself. “Alek sent me a suicide note.”

  There was a heavy silence on the other end of the line. “Shit.”

  “Yeah.” She felt the gravity of the moment, that all kinds of new horrors would be born from this, that her life had changed forever.

  “Where are you?”

  “At my apartment.”

  “Okay, I’m across town. Don’t do anything. I’ll be right over.”

  “Thank you.” The words fell from her mouth, accompanied by the last drip of composure she had left. She dropped the BlackBerry on the couch and grabbed a pillow.

  When Jacob buzzed in, she tried to wipe her eyes, but seeing him at the door caused her to lose it again. He moved in toward her and gave her the hug she had so desperately wanted from Landon. She grabbed on to his shoulders and squeezed him as tightly as she could. Tears streamed down her cheeks, falling onto his jacket.

  “I’m sorry,” she whimpered, finally releasing her grip on his shoulders. “I’m getting tears on your suit.” She wiped at his shoulder and then at her eyes. “I’m so sorry, Jacob.”

  “It’s okay, Liv.” He hugged her back. “Where is it?”

  “Here.” She handed him the letter. “I’m supposed to call the lawyer. Landon said to call Ethanson.”