Sway (Landry Family #1)

by Adriana Locke

  She raises her brow.

  “Or I’ll get us people,” I laugh, pulling her into me. “It doesn’t matter to me as long as I have you. And right now you working at Luxor makes me crazy and I’d rather you didn’t.”

  “Why does Luxor bother you so much? You don’t have a problem with my other job or school, right?”

  I glance at the ceiling as her fingertips trail down my neck and try to decide how to explain it to her. “Because I know how people treat the catering staff. I’ve seen it. The people at those events act like they’re above you somehow and when I think about that, about people talking down to you, I want to punch them in the face.”

  “Noted.”

  I sigh, resting my chin on her head. “But you’re still going to work, aren’t you?”

  “Yup.”

  “Noted,” I grumble.

  Barrett

  IT'S BEEN A DAY FROM hell. Straight out of the fiery depths of Hades, this day has been nothing but one fucked up thing after another starting before I even got here.

  Five thousand gallons per hour of sewage being spewed out of the ground in the middle of the city usually makes for a fun day. Add on top of that a new misconduct case being levied against the police department and a grant denied for a housing complex for the city, and the day goes to shit rather quickly and quite literally.

  So, yeah, shitty all around.

  My office door is shut, but the shuffle of staff members in the hallway outside sounds as loud as if they were in front of my desk. Everyone is on high alert, waiting for the latest poll numbers to drop. I'm trying to block it out, trying to work on the bill in front of me, but the interruption every six seconds by someone else is making it impossible. I can't even escape to the Farm. Too much work has had to be done today in the office, yet not a lot of it has actually been completed.

  Another knock raps on the door and I toss my pen across the desk, watching it skid until it lands against a stack of files. "Yeah?" I ask, my voice more irritated than I care to let most people hear.

  Nolan opens the door and lets it shut behind him with a slam. "Numbers are in."

  By the look on his tightened face, they aren't good. I lean back in my chair and wait for the verdict.

  "Hobbs gave a speech last night that was better than we predicted. He's gaining headway in the north more steadily than anticipated.”

  “How do we counteract that?” I sigh.

  "You know how.”

  “Monroe.”

  “Yes, Monroe.” He sits across from me, his face stiff. “Look, Barrett. I know you don’t want to make concessions to him. I get it. But if you want to win this thing, you’re going to have to bite the bullet and tell him what he wants to hear.”

  Squeezing my temples, trying to massage away the issue, I groan. This is something I had hoped I could put off long enough that it wouldn’t be necessary. It’s becoming apparent that’s not happening.

  “Is there any other way, Nolan? Anything?”

  He shakes his head. “No, and you have Garalent coming up too. I’m not one hundred percent sure how Monroe’s going to feel about you taking Alison.”

  “She’s my girl. I’m not sure what that has to do with anything.”

  “Daphne has traditionally gone with you. For years now, it’s been the two of you. It’s kind of your show. People wait for those pictures, and Daphne gets a lot of press after it. You bowing out on her is going to diminish some of that.”

  “Not my problem.”

  He sits back in his chair, tapping his cheek with a pen. “So Alison is going with you?”

  I don’t want to answer that question. I’m afraid it’ll open some door that I want permanently sealed. But the longer I look at Nolan, the more obvious it is he’s going to wait for an answer.

  “No, actually,” I say. “She has to work.” I raise a brow. “I’ll be going alone.”

  He catches his smile. “Well, in that case, I think we should consider—”

  “We shouldn’t.”

  “Barrett . . .”

  “I am not taking Daphne Monroe to the Gala. Period.”

  Nolan rolls his eyes and stands. His jaw is twitching, frustrated with my sudden forcefulness. “Fine. No Daphne. But if you want to win this election, you’re going to have to give in to her father.”

  Another knock, interruption number sixteen million, sounds at the door. Before I can respond, it pushes open and my father walks in. Dressed in a suit that mirrors mine, he flashes a look to Nolan, then to me.

  “Son.”

  “Hey, Dad.”

  “I just saw the reports Nolan sent over. The polls are bad, Barrett.”

  “I’m still in the lead.”

  “Barely.” He stands next to Nolan and they both look at me. “You have to be smart here. How many months do we have in this campaign? How many salaries are dependent on whether you get elected or not?”

  “How about my legacy? How’s it going to look if that bill passes and it fucks the entire economy, like I think it will?”

  “It won’t,” my father says, his voice stern.

  Groaning, I stand too, so we are eye to eye.

  “Do you want to go out there and tell Rose she needs to look for a job?” Nolan asks. "We're all going to be looking for one come January if you don’t act now. And we are down to days, Barrett. Days."

  He's right. This damn election is going to go to the person that sells their soul to the right bidder. I'm not going to have a chance to do the things I want to do as Governor, nor am I going to be able to make my family proud by winning the seat, if I don't do something. My ethics are keeping me from winning, and that's not fair to everyone that's worked so hard for this chance. Or me. And if Hobbs gets in office, fuck knows what he'll do.

  "Give me the phone," I mutter.

  Alison

  “EARTH TO ALISON.”

  I turn around to see my mother leaning on the doorframe to the living room. She’s been watching me for who knows how long while I sit curled up on the sofa watching the sun set.

  “Are you okay?” Mom sits beside me and gives me a questioning look.

  I grin. “I’m good. Great, really. Just nervous.”

  “What about?”

  I untwist my legs and sit up straight. Taking a deep breath, I ask the one person that I know that’s been in a healthy marriage for most of her life with the same man. “How did you know that Daddy was The One? Like, I thought Hayden was, but now I know he wasn’t. But how do you know your heart isn’t being stupid?”

  “You just know.”

  “Gee, thanks, Mom.”

  She pats me on the leg. “Are things getting serious with Mr. Landry?”

  I nod and her smile widens further. Eventually, a grin tugs at my lips too.

  “I really like him. Like, I love him. But I thought I was in love before, and it wasn’t love, so what if it isn’t this time either? I have Hux now; I can’t just go falling in love.”

  “The fact that you got into a relationship with him in the first place speaks volumes.”

  “How’s that?”

  She shrugs. “Look, Ali. You never got involved with anyone seriously since Hayden. Why?”

  “Because they weren’t good enough for Huxley.”

  “Exactly. But you let your guard down with Barrett.” She takes a deep breath. “You’re a fantastic mother. I’m so proud to watch you with Hux and how you put him before anything and everyone. It just fills my heart with so much pride. I’ll admit, when I heard you were seeing Barrett, I was a little anxious. He has quite a reputation.”

  “I know,” I laugh.

  “But if you trusted him enough to let him around my grandson, then that’s enough for me.” She considers her next words. “He talks about him. Says he likes him and that he talks to him like he matters.”

  “He’s so good with Huxley,” I say, my heart brimming in my chest.

  She takes my hand and gives it a squeeze. “You have to trust yourself. Believe i
n yourself.”

  “That’s what I tell Barrett.”

  “What?”

  “To believe in himself. To know he can do things his way and win.”

  “Well, smarty-pants, take your own advice. Believe in yourself and believe in him enough to fight alongside him. Did you ever think that maybe no one has believed in him before?”

  I roll my eyes. “Of course they have. He’s supported by everyone. His entire family turns out to support him.”

  “Supporting someone and believing in them are two different things, Alison.”

  I gaze back at the sunset and think about what she said. The longer I mull it over, the more right she seems.

  “I’m going to take off,” she says.

  “We need to leave soon for Huxley’s program at school. You sure you don’t want to come?”

  She sighs. “I wish I could, honey. But your father will be home shortly and I really want to have a hot meal ready for him when he gets in.”

  “Okay.” I watch her walk to the door. “Thanks, Mom. For everything.”

  “It’s what I’m here for.”

  The door shuts behind her as I curl back up on the sofa. I wonder what life would be like with Barrett. How much of my daily life would change? How would I go about working and going to school if I was living with him?

  Could I live with him? Without some sort of guarantee that things would work out? Do I want to be that girl that demands a guarantee?

  My anxiety begins to spiral out of control when his name pops up on my phone. I swipe the screen.

  “Hey, you,” I say.

  “Hey, baby. How’s your day?”

  His voice is gruff and I can hear frustration laced through every syllable. It pings at my heart.

  “Good. But how was yours? You sound tired.”

  He huffs a laugh. “Tired. Pissed off. Frustrated.”

  “Why?”

  “Well, I made a deal with the devil today.”

  “What do you mean?”

  I pull the blanket around me, furrowing my brow. It’s not so much the words that bother me, although they’re ominous in themselves. It’s the tone that he’s using, the almost lack of warmth, the void of any sort of energy that has me biting my lip.

  “I called Monroe. Made a deal on the Land Bill. It’s done.”

  “Oh, Barrett . . .” My spirits sink to the floor, knowing just how much he didn’t want to do this.

  “I didn’t have a choice,” he sighs. “The poll numbers are too tight.” He growls into the phone and I want to reach out and pull him into a giant hug.

  “Why do you sound like you’re trying to convince yourself? Not me?”

  He chuckles. “Because that’s exactly what I’m trying to do.”

  “Then why did you do it? Why did you go against what you wanted to do?”

  “I had to.”

  “No, you didn’t,” I implore. “What you want, what you put your name on, that means something, Barrett. That means more than anything else. You aren’t responsible for everyone’s lives. People can find jobs. People will find a way to make it and you don’t even know for sure if that would even happen.”

  “You’re supposed to make me feel better about this,” he laughs sadly.

  “I’m not enabling your behavior. I’m not going to sit here and pretend like you did the right thing when I can hear in your voice that you don’t think you did.”

  “I had to,” he repeats.

  I try to think of how to explain what I feel. It’s so hard over the phone, nearly impossible to ascertain what he’s thinking without seeing into his eyes.

  “You have to start believing in yourself,” I say, my voice soft. “Don’t you realize how smart you are?”

  He snorts, dismissing me. But I continue.

  “You are. The people deserve to hear what you think, for you to do what’s best for them, not what you think you have to say.”

  “I wish I could,” he mumbles.

  We sit for a long while, each of us quiet, each of us processing what he’s done. My heart twists for him, hurting that he’s in some self-inflicted prison. Finally, just as the back door opens and I hear Huxley rumbling through the fridge, Barrett speaks.

  “You know the worst part of all of this?”

  “What’s that?”

  “Hearing the disappointment in your voice.”

  “Oh, Barrett,” I say. “I’m not disappointed in you.”

  “Yes, you are. I hear it. And if I were there, you’d be looking at me like everyone else looks at me. Like I’m just a fucking idiot for one reason or the other.”

  “Barrett, that’s not true. I’m . . . I’m disappointed that you feel like you have to do things you don’t want to do. When you’re with me, you’re strong, confident. You’re happy and funny and kind. And then you go to work and you’re still all those things, just with a buffer built around you to make you more . . . I don’t know, palatable to the public?”

  He takes a deep breath and blows it out steadily. “I need to go catch up on work. I got behind today. Can I call you later?”

  “Of course you can,” I whisper. “Anytime. I hope you do. I’m worried about you.”

  A long stretch of silence falls over us, but it’s not a lonely type of feeling. It’s swollen with a feeling that’s so heavy, so comfortable, I can barely breathe.

  “Ali?” he rasps.

  “Yes, Barrett?”

  “I love you,” he whispers.

  I gasp, the words not at all what I was expecting . . . but everything I’d hoped to hear come from his sweet lips.

  He stutters at my reaction and I panic that he’s going to recant his declaration before I can get my head together.

  “Barrett,” I say, interrupting his bobble of a response.

  “Yeah?”

  “I love you too.”

  The words sound like a song coming from my mouth, a set of words I was prepared to never utter to a man again. But the fact that I’m saying them and not just willingly, but with my entire heart and without a smidgen of regret, makes my heart sing too.

  “You do?” he asks, a tremble in the words.

  “I really do.”

  He laughs a weak, quiet rumble. “Damn it, Alison. I thought you were going to tell me to go fly a kite.”

  “Only if that kite is going to carry you over here,” I breathe. “You just took me by surprise, that’s all.”

  “But was it a good surprise?”

  I grin until my cheeks ache. “The best surprise of my life.”

  Barrett

  THE DEFINITIVE SOUND OF HEELS against the hardwood tells me who just pulled up. The headlights had brushed past my office window, but I couldn't make out the model of the car before it pulled in. When the key was used and the alarm turned off, the possibilities narrowed tremendously. But the heels were a dead giveaway.

  "Knock, knock." My mother's voice rings through my office. When I look up, she's standing in the doorway. Wearing a dark purple dress and pearls, she looks like she's sent straight from Central Casting. The perfect mother.

  "Hey," I say, sinking back in my chair. "What brings you by this late?"

  "Just checking on my eldest. I'm allowed to do that, aren't I?"

  "Absolutely," I grin, happy to see her. "Come in."

  She strides in the room with her usual grace, just like Camilla and Sienna do. They are beautiful and composed, yet can be lions when necessary. It's what I love most about them. It’s what I love about Alison too.

  Sliding into a leather chair facing my desk, she looks at me. Her eyes search me the way a mother's do, trying to decide how I am before she asks. "How are you?"

  "Been better. Been worse."

  "How's the campaign coming along?"

  "Almost over."

  "You say that like you're happy about it."

  I shrug and kind of grimace. I don't even bother trying to hide shit from her. She always knows.

  "I'm proud of you. You know that?" sh
e asks and I know to brace myself. She always starts out with a compliment before really getting to what she means. "But this—what you're going through right now—is why I didn't want you in politics, honey."

  "It's not terrible."

  "And it's not great either. And what I want for you is a great life." She sighs and shakes her head, and I feel like a twelve-year-old boy again. "You've done an excellent job as Mayor, and I'd be thrilled for you to do the same things for the people of this state as you've done for the people in Savannah. You've gone up against some serious odds during your terms and you've beaten them all. But you've also managed to not lose yourself in the process and I'm worried that's going to happen." She eyes me curiously. "If it isn’t already starting to happen."

  She folds her arms and narrows her eyes. "I've watched my father work in this business and I’ve stood beside your father, through thick and thin, as he navigated this very same thing. None of them were as successful as you in a lot of ways. I like to think it's because you are part me," she teases.

  "Probably true."

  "You'll get as far as you want to. And I know your daddy pushes you, wants you to succeed in the ways he couldn't. But Barrett, my sweet boy, don't kill yourself for this unless you're sure it's what you want."

  "I am sure."

  "Are you? Are you really? I used to think so, but now . . . I look at your face tonight and I'm not so positive anymore."

  I bury my head in my hands. "I made a deal with Monroe."

  "And?"

  "And I didn't want to make it. I did it because I thought I had to. But now, I have doubts, and I know it's not one I can follow through on."

  "Barrett . . .”

  "I know. But I'm responsible for all of these people that work for me, Mom. I feel obligated to do everything I can to make sure I win so they can feed their families."

  "That's Nolan talking—"

  "That's me talking," I cut her back off. "I have the opportunity in front of me that so many want, and I can do it! If I win this election, I can be in the running for a shot at the White House in a few years. If I don't do this, isn't that just stupid? To just quit on a dream so many have?"

  "Not if it isn't your dream."

  "It is my dream," I sigh. "I'm just stressed. I need a drink or something." I stand and walk to my dry bar and pour myself some Scotch.