All The Pretty Things
Rae D. Magdon and Michelle Magly
Text copyright © 2013 Rae D Magdon & Michelle Magly
Cover image copyright © 2013 Tara Selph
All Rights Reserved
Acknowledgements
A special thank-you to Tara, who not only offered constant support, but helped design the cover for this story. Thank you, Andrea, for also providing support through endless nights of rewriting and editing. Without the both of you, we would not have finished this work with our sanity in-tact. We would also like to thank the community of writers who have supported us, both online and in person, who have constantly encouraged us over the years to keep on writing. We did just that, and now we have a publication to show for it.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Epilogue
Chapter 1
Cincinnati, Ohio: June 4th
"Well, you've got the face."
Tess narrowed her eyes, her gaze revealing nothing to the well-dressed man across the table. She had both been looking forward to and dreading this meeting for the past year. "The face?" she repeated, leaving the words as more of a statement than a question. She knew what he meant. Blonde hair and blue eyes looked nice from behind the lens of a camera or on a television screen. Appearances mattered in the game of politics, and if his salary was any indication, Brian Tisdale was going to teach her how to win.
"A face people like. I've always thought so, even during your father's campaign."
It took an exercise of willpower for Tess to keep from sighing and rolling her eyes. "Glad to be helpful," she said dryly. Tess and Brian had been grudging acquaintances for years. As Senator Daubney's campaign manager, he had paraded her around at political fundraisers, posed her for commercials, and basically used her as a marketing tool ever since her early teens. She knew how he operated.
Brian deliberately ignored her unspoken criticism. He knew not to take it personally. Although she was always rather cold toward him, Tess had complied with most of his wishes in the past. Now, as a favor to the former Senator, and with the incentive of a healthy paycheck, he had agreed to act as Tess's campaign manager. "Is your father coming?" he asked, glancing at the door even though they were the only ones in the conference room.
Tess shook her head. "I talked him out of it. I know you wanted this to be private."
"Some of these questions are going to get personal, Tess. That's the way things work in this world. You've got to know what you're getting into." Sometimes, Tess wondered if she really did know. Whenever she had doubts, she reminded herself of her career path. She had written it out on a sheet of notebook paper when she was only twelve years old and stuck to it as closely as she could. Her determination helped her become valedictorian at her exclusive high school, salutatorian during her first four years of college thanks to a particularly vindictive professor that had lowered her final grade, and graduate Magna Cum Laude from an Ivy League law school. Now, after several years working for her father in Washington and serving as a State Senator, it was finally her time.
"I'm going to lay it out for you," said Brian, flipping open to the third page in his binder. "If you want this congressional seat, you're going to have to work for it." Tess stared at him over the frames of her glasses, waiting for him to continue. "This won't be like the primary, Tess. The other Republicans were willing to make nice with a pretty new girl from a well-known political family, but Saunders and the Democrats won't. He's used to winning and he has no scruples about using theatrics, mudslinging, and outright lies to get results. I'm worried, and the second district has been in Republican hands since the early 1980s."
"That doesn't say much for your faith in me," Tess said, careful to keep her tone neutral.
"Faith doesn't count in an election year. I want you going in to this with both eyes open." Brian turned to another page in his binder. "At least this part won't take long, since I already know most of your background."
Curious, Tess leaned forward across the table to get a better look at what he was reading. Even upside down, she could tell that it was a list and was able to make out a few of the words. "Money? Family? Drugs? Criminal Record? Sex? What kind of list is this, Brian?"
"The same list I've used for every campaign I've ever managed. It's called the 'We're Fucked' list, and we're going through it together. When Saunders starts throwing stuff, I want to know whether it's shit or hand grenades."
Tess lifted a skeptical eyebrow. "Okay. At least now I know why you didn't want Dad here. Go down the list." Mentally, she braced herself for the barrage of questions. "What is 'Money' supposed to mean?"
"The war chest. More specifically, where you got yours. Thankfully, we're playing with your cash, so you don't have too many lobbyist puppetmasters to worry about appeasing, and I also know you didn't obtain any of it illegally."
"Illegally?"
Brian simply nodded. For all her intelligence, sometimes Tess could be surprisingly naïve. Someday, her faith in human goodness was going to come back and bite her in the ass. "Your family is golden. Your father's name and reputation are going to boost you from the start. Your mother's a piece of work, but she knows how to smile for the camera. Joshua should buckle down and take life more seriously, but he's not usually in too much trouble. You won't end up like Congressman Kempshaw." Brian brought a hand to his forehead and rubbed as if trying to soothe a headache. Although Alan Kempshaw of North Carolina was a straight arrow, as much as one could be in politics, his drug-addicted brother had caused him several campaign problems. "Which brings us to the next question," Brian continued. "I know you don't use drugs, and I know you don't have a criminal record. That leaves -"
"Sex." It was the only thing left that Tess could think of. "You really think this is necessary?"
Brian stared at her, letting the silence stretch out between them. "People are going to talk, you know," he said at last, studying her so intently that Tess wondered if he was trying to see through her skin. "You're wealthy and attractive. You come from an excellent family..."
"You make me sound like a showdog," Tess muttered. "Do you want to walk me around in the ring and find a stud to breed me? I promise not to bite when the judges check my teeth."
"I'm just saying that some constituents will wonder why you aren't married."
Even though she was already sitting with good posture, Tess straightened her spine to give herself an extra half-inch of height. "Why should they care?" In her mind, Tess was not only defending herself against her campaign manager. She had given this speech to her parents, friends, and other well-meaning family members and colleagues since her mid twenties. "It's not 1950 anymore. There are plenty of single women my age. In fact, I know plenty of women decades older than me who are single, too."
"Yeah, but most of them are divorced, and they aren't the ones running for office. A good family image –"
"Which I have," Tess interrupted.
"Which you have," Brian agreed. "Okay, enough arguing. Just please tell me you outgrew the lesbian college thing like the rest of your sorority. The Republicans have made some strides in the last few years, but they're nowhere near ready to elect an openly gay Congresswoman yet."
Tess's refusal to answer his question was telling. He groaned and flipped to another page in his binder. "Fine, fine, I guess that was too much to hope for. How many people are you out to, and how much damage control do I need to do?"
"Give me some credit. I'm not stupid, Brian." Tess had kept her sexuality quiet with the knowledge that she could never run for office as a Republican while out. Even though gay marriage was legal in more than a handful of states and recognized by the federal government, it did not change the fact that her party disapproved of homosexuality, carried by the sea of bile that flowed from their Evangelical constituents. "Aside from my brother and a few, um, personal arrangements, none of my friends or acquaintances know. Hell, my own mother doesn't know."
"Your mother doesn't stop talking long enough to listen to anyone but herself," Brian muttered. Tess's relationship with her mother had never been very fulfilling for either of them. In fact, she much preferred her father's mistress, Cindy. She was much more tolerable to be around. "You've never paid for these 'personal arrangements', right?"
Tess looked appropriately affronted. "Of course not!" Fortunately, she had always been an excellent liar. It was a skill that had served her well as a politician. "I hate to break it to you, Brian, but women can usually get sex whenever they want without paying for it."
"Teresa Daubney, if you are lying to me –"
"Why do you think I'm lying?" she asked, her voice stern. Even Brian, who had seen everything there was to see in his years as a political aide and campaign manager, had to work hard not to flinch. Tess had more of her father in her than just his good looks.
"It explains why no brokenhearted exes have come crying to the newspapers saying they slept with you."
The frown on Tess's face carved itself deeper, matching the worry lines that creased her forehead. "Maybe I just happen to be discreet and persuasive. Isn't that how a politician is supposed to operate?" Her campaign manager still did not look convinced. "Don't worry, Brian. There's no girlfriend for you to cover up and there are no exes for you to worry about. In fact, I am planning on avoiding that sort of company during the campaign. I don't need the media poking their nose in my personal life."
"Good girl." Perhaps those words, in another circumstance, would have been more pleasing to her, but now, they only made Tess irritable. Tisdale straightened the papers in his binder, flipping to the next page. "Promise me that if something comes up, you'll tell me before I read about it on the Internet?"
"I promise." Since both of her hands were resting in plain view on the table, Tess had to make do with crossing her legs at the knee, letting the hem of her skirt brush upwards along one thigh. If anyone found out either of her three secrets: that she preferred women, that she had paid for their company until four years ago, and that not all of the services she requested were 'average', Brian was the last person she would go to for help. Money could buy a lot of things, and protection was one of them, if you knew the right places to look.
Chapter 2
Washington, DC: September 27th
"How do you feel about Cincinnati?"
Special Agent Robin Hart had no particular feelings about Cincinnati one way or the other, but decided that it would be wise not to say so. Assistant Director Greely was the kind of boss who liked listening to himself talk. She chose to humor him and rested her hand on the back of the chair in front of his desk and waited. Greely liked to imagine that he was approachable, a 'people person' that always had an open seat in his office. She remained standing, knowing it would annoy him, and wondered what she had gotten herself into this time.
There were two possible reasons for Greely to send her to Cincinnati, and one was preferable over the other. The first possibility was a transfer to their field office, something that she definitely did not want. Automatically, Robin searched her memory for any regulations she might have broken. Her last couple of cases had been smooth and relatively minor, and she had been cleared on the Grainger shooting months ago. She didn't have trouble with any of the three B's – no broads, no booze, and no Bureau cars – so she had no idea what might have motivated Greely to transfer her. Of course, there was always another possibility. He might be sending her on assignment.
The older man's next words confirmed it. "Your new assignment," he said, pushing a manila folder and a flash drive across the top of his desk, leaving them within her reach. Robin gave in and took the flash drive, slipping it in the pocket of her neatly pressed slacks. Honestly, the whole dressing up thing was what she hated the most about her job. The occasional firefight or dangerous situation was also unwelcome, but really, the clothes were worse.
Flipping open the file, she glanced over the summary page, brown eyes growing progressively larger as she read. Corruption cases were nothing new to her since she had reluctantly put her counterterrorism days behind her, but this one seemed particularly slimy. No one working for the government wanted to investigate one of their own, especially not her, and investigations like this tended to make a lot more enemies than friends. Privately, Robin wondered what she had done in a past life to deserve this. It must be bad karma, she thought as she looked back up at Greely. "Well, shit."
"Shit is right," Greely agreed. "We've had a couple of tips on this already. Everything we know so far is in the file. We didn't take it too seriously at first, so it's not much, but the information started to pile up.”
Robin scowled. "You mean you ignored it."
Greely did not deny it. "Washington's a funny place," he said, reaching for his coffee and frowning when he discovered that it was cold. "Everybody knows everybody."
"So he's got friends. So what?" Robin remained unimpressed. "Corruption is corruption." With a sigh, she looked back down at the folder. Saunders. Where had she heard that name before? It seemed vaguely familiar, and not being able to place the man bothered her. She flipped through the limited information that her boss had provided in the folder. "The House Committee on Financial Services; Subcommittee on Domestic Monetary Policy and Technology; Subcommittee on Capital Markets, Insurance, and Government Sponsored Enterprises," Robin read aloud. "This guy has his fingers in a lot of pies, and money seems to be the main ingredient." She winced a little when she realized how awful that sentence sounded in retrospect. She really needed to work on her lines.
Fortunately, Greely didn't notice her poor word choices. "Tread carefully on this one, Hart. This isn't some petty border control officer taking bribes. Saunders is a well-respected and influential politician, even if he does come from the middle of nowhere. Don't make me bail you out of trouble for stepping on a Congressman's toes."
"I don't think Cincinnati is in the middle of nowhere," Robin pointed out. To Assistant Director Greely, any city that wasn't on the East Coast or in California was 'the middle of nowhere'. She had never been to Cincinnati, or even Ohio, but she assumed that if it was big enough to warrant an FBI field office, there had to be some civilization there. "So, why am I going to Cincinnati if I'm investigating a Congressman working in Washington?" she asked.
"Because he's up for reelection. His offices, his support staff, and most of his paperwork are all there right now. Besides, I want you to keep an eye on the monetary supporters of his campaign."
Oh. Bribes. Robin did not need a clearer explanation. "How much support am I getting on this?"
"Use some of Cincinnati's brick agents. No need to ship too many of our people over there. I'm calling their regional branch today to give them a heads-up," said Greely. "You're the lead Special Agent on this, but try to play nice, will you? It
's their sandbox. We've got enough trouble dealing with local law enforcement without worrying about inter-agency cooperation." Both of them knew that what he really meant was: Don't do anything to piss them off, but don't let them usurp the investigation, either.
Robin closed the file, tucking it against her side. "Got it," she said, shifting her weight to her other foot and removing her hand from the chair.
"Get out of here, Hart. One of the Betties got you plane tickets for tomorrow, so you'd better pack and do your homework." Robin headed for the door, ignoring the slightly sexist remark and reminding herself that she really did like her ADIC once in a great while. The bureau officials could be annoying sometimes, but Greely was all right most of the time. His personality was slightly abrasive, but he didn't interfere unnecessarily with the agents that he supervised.
Despite her initial wariness about investigating a well-connected federal politician, the more Robin thought about her new assignment, the more she began looking forward to it. This was the part of the job that she loved, sinking her teeth into a nice fresh case and digging up the incriminating information she needed right from under the subject's nose. It wasn't quite as exhilarating as counterterrorism, but it still required a certain amount of finesse and intelligence.
The relationship between Congressmen and their supporters was often blurry, and it was usually difficult to prove bribery directly. The political game was pay-to-play, after all. Casually, she flipped through the file again, neatly sidestepping a junior agent as she read and walked. Most of it was background information, and very little prep work had been done so far. She would be building this case from the ground up.
* * *
Robin felt the wide, buggy eyes of Charlie, her Siamese fighting fish, staring at her mournfully through the clear plastic walls of his home. He swirled his colorful fins, circling excitedly as she reached for his tin of food. "Sorry, buddy," she said, lifting the top of his tank to pour in a few fish flakes, "no blood worms or shrimp for you today. You're getting fat."
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