Life of the Party

by Kris Fletcher

  Good answer. If nothing else, Cole had just proved that he could think on his feet.

  The moderator wasn’t as impressed, and uttered a reminder that questions were to come through him instead of being shouted out. But before he could choose someone, Tadeson stepped up to the microphone and said, “Hang on a minute, Mike. I’d like to know why Mr. Elias would ask that.”

  From the emphasis Tadeson placed on the Elias, it was clear he wanted to be sure everyone in attendance knew who they were dealing with.

  Rob shrugged. “Obviously, as a resident of Calypso Falls once again, I have a vested interest. But I’m not the only one. People coming back from deployment, people who have been laid off, people who have been sick or, say, recovering a long time from an injury. There’s lots of reasons why they might need a second chance.”

  Holy shit. Had he just equated his law-breaking with her accident?

  She was going to slip out the side door. She was going to hide in the shadows and follow him to his car. And then she was going to . . . .

  She didn’t know. Slashing his tires seemed a bit extreme, not to mention probably impossible to do with a ballpoint pen. She sure as hell wasn’t going to confront him in a public place.

  Maybe she could wait for him to come back to the shop and roofie his coffee. Then, while he was out, she and her sisters could tie him up and stuff him in a trunk and ship him off on the next bus leaving town.

  Tadeson, the fool, was replying to Rob’s comment. Why? He was too smart to engage. Maybe he was trying to find a loophole, some way to use this against Cole. It didn’t matter, though, for Rob obviously had forgotten nothing in his years away from politics.

  “Here’s how I see it,” he continued, walking into the center of the room. “People always say three strikes and you’re out, and yeah, after the third time they might have a point. But it seems to me that too many folks are ready to jump after just one screwup. When you’re trying to come back from making a mess of things—and, yes, I am talking from personal experience—sometimes it’s like there’s a line going down the middle of life, with all the people who are looking for a fresh start on one side and everyone else on the other. And the people who are sitting pretty right now seem to have forgotten that everyone messes up sometimes.”

  Any hope that the moderator could regain control of the evening ended when someone in the audience shouted out, “That’s for damned sure!” Rob nodded and pointed to the guy. The crowd buzzed. Mayor Tadeson said something into his microphone but it was swallowed up by the mounting buzz. Jenna peered over the edge of her notebook to see her father holding court in the center of the room, talking to an ever-growing circle while an equal number of members of the audience made their way toward the door. The moderator shrugged and walked away. Up on the stage, Cole and the mayor exchanged a look that was equal parts resignation and annoyance. Tadeson shook his head and stalked off the stage. Cole leaned into his microphone and offered his thanks to those in attendance. Jenna was pretty sure that she was the only one who heard him.

  Just before he left his podium, Cole took in the scene before him, then searched the room until his gaze landed directly on Jenna. He seemed to be taking her measure. It hit her that he was checking up on her, making sure she was okay.

  She risked a direct look. Offered an apologetic smile. Read his glance toward her father and answered it with a shrug and an eye roll.

  With a brisk nod, he left the stage. And in the middle of her embarrassment and anger and worry and all the other crap pulsing through her, a little ember of comfort glowed deep down inside.

  It really was a good thing she was leaving town. Because damn, it would be easy to love this guy.

  ***

  The morning after the debate, Cole wasn’t the least bit surprised by the front page story in the morning paper that gave almost as many column inches to Rob Elias as to either him or the incumbent. Nor could he say he was caught off guard by the text that showed up on his phone.

  I feel the strangest urge to apologize for the way things turned out. I guess blood really is thicker than water, because I can’t help feeling that part of his behavior was due to my presence.

  He knew you were there?

  Oh yeah. He spotted me pretty early on.

  And she had stayed through the rest of the debate? Damn. That was dedication.

  I know you didn’t have anything to do with it, he typed.

  My brain agrees with you. My conscience is being a lot less forgiving.

  I think maybe you’ll have to apologize in person.

  Excellent idea, except my sister is home tonight.

  It was on the tip of his fingers to suggest that she come to his place. It wasn’t like he had to worry about neighbors drawing conclusions. The stately homes on either side of him had been turned into offices years ago, as had almost all of the houses on the street. He was one of the few who both lived and worked in his neighborhood.

  But given the headlines in that day’s paper, and the wall calendar showing him that that the election was terrifyingly close, he probably needed to err on the side of caution.

  Choir practice is Thursday, right?

  Right. But I have a seminar I have to attend.

  Good thing you invited me along to Brockport.

  You’re coming????????

  He grinned. It was impossible not to. He had a pretty good idea that every question mark had been accompanied by a bounce or a squeal. Maybe both.

  Let me put it this way: if you’re there, I’m coming.

  Her response was a highly suggestive emoticon that had him smothering his laughter when his paralegal tapped on the door.

  “You have a visitor,” David said, slipping into the room and closing the door behind him. “And I want to be sure you’re not needed in court or anything before I let him in.”

  What the . . .

  Elias, David mouthed.

  Oh shit.

  Cole could either try to avoid the man for the next month, or he could get things on the table and move on.

  “It’s okay, David. Send him in.”

  A moment later, Rob walked in, as strong and confident as if he had never hijacked a debate. Or done time in Club Fed. Or harassed his daughter.

  That was the one that kept Cole from standing as the older man entered.

  “Mr. Elias.” He didn’t bother waving toward the chair on the other side of the desk. “What do you need?”

  Rob didn’t so much as flinch. Nor did he bother to ask permission before seating himself.

  So it was going to be that kind of visit.

  “I’m here to tell you about a project I have planned.”

  “Really.” Not to apologize for his behavior. Not to inquire as to why Cole happened to be around each time Jenna had to boot Rob’s ass out of the shop. He was here about a project?

  If Cole hadn’t already been inclined to dislike the man, this in itself would have done the trick.

  “I’m sure you know my background as well as the rest of the country does,” Rob said. “I made some bad choices, I served my time, I’m a free man again. I’ve had plenty of time to think over the past few years. People always talk about the need to train prisoners for jobs, get them educated, make sure they have a skill they can use when they get out so they don’t have to go back to whatever got them locked up. I’m here to tell you that one of the biggest ways to make sure prisoners have a reason to stay straight is by helping them maintain strong ties with their families while they’re inside.”

  “An interesting perspective, coming from a man who chose to let his family believe he was dead for five years.”

  “As I said, I made a lot of bad choices. Ones I wouldn’t make now if I’d have known how they would backfire.”

  Cole studied the man. Years of reading the faces of clients and witnesses had given hi
m a pretty good ability to tell the difference between truth and bullshit. It wasn’t any one behavior or expression that gave them away, and to tell the truth, he usually couldn’t pinpoint what activated his suspicions. All he knew was that his gut usually was right. In this case, his gut was saying that Rob’s expressions of regret were based in truth.

  Interesting.

  “Never having been in prison, I can’t agree or disagree with what you’re saying. What I would like to know is why you’re telling me about this.” Cole sat back in his chair. “I assume it has something to do with your question at the debate.”

  “It does. By the way, I didn’t expect things to turn out like that. My question was legitimate, but I didn’t anticipate that things would snowball the way they did.”

  Cole delivered his best nonverbal, squinty-eyed, Are you shitting me?

  Rob shifted slightly. Embarrassed? “And I admit, old habits die hard. Even when it’s been almost two decades since they were needed.”

  That, Cole could believe.

  “My point is that I want to do something about the disruption that happens in a family when a member is incarcerated. I’m working with people to create a not-for-profit that will tackle this. Education, model programs, new regulations.”

  “People will say that those who are in prison made their choice and don’t deserve to be coddled.”

  “That might be. But does a child deserve to lose touch with a parent because that parent screwed up? People who break the law should be punished. Their families shouldn’t.”

  Cole hated to admit it, but Rob had a point. A very small one, but still it was there.

  “I’m sure there are already organizations that are addressing this issue.”

  “There are. But there’s none that has the kind of backing I can secure.” He glanced down at the floor, swiftly. “And none of them have someone who knows how to work the system and who is instantly identified with the issue.”

  Ah. That was true.

  “All right, Mr. Elias. I confess, I’m interested. But I still don’t know why you’re coming to me. Even if I should win—”

  “You’ll win. I know how to gauge a crowd. You had them in your pocket last night.”

  Considering the source, Cole wasn’t sure if he should be encouraged or insulted.

  “Thank you, but that was a small percentage of the voters. In any case, even if I win, being mayor of Calypso Falls won’t give me any ability to help your cause. As I said last night, this sounds like something that would be better served by looking to the state.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong. I believe the town has an empty fire station, correct?”

  Cole had a sudden suspicion that he knew where this was going.

  “Right. Station One was torn down after the consolidation but Station Two is for sale.”

  “Or the town could rent it to the Family Ties Alliance.”

  Way back when Cole was in law school, one of his professors had made an offhand comment that when a client or judge or anyone said something that was so unexpected that it was almost impossible to not laugh, the best way to buy time—and composure—was by repeating the statement back to them. Cole had lost count of how many times he had sent that prof a mental thank-you note.

  This time, though, he might need to sit down and write out an actual letter of gratitude.

  “You want me to promise to lease Fire Station Two to your organization.”

  “That is correct.”

  Well, one thing was abundantly clear. Cole now understood which parent had given Jenna the ability to ask for the impossible.

  “Mr. Elias, you seem to understand the value of speaking clearly, so I won’t mince words. Partnering with you would be political suicide.”

  “Of course it would be. That’s why I wouldn’t expect you to address the issue until after the election.”

  “Interesting suggestion. Have you looked at my campaign brochures? The ones that talk about the need for openness and transparency?”

  “Yes I have. They’re very well-done. I notice that none of your campaign materials mention my daughter.”

  Cole stopped the reflexive jerk just in time. “No, they don’t.”

  “By mutual agreement?”

  “I can’t see how that is remotely any concern of yours.”

  “Believe it or not, Cole, the happiness and welfare of my daughters will always be my concern.”

  Sitting very still in his chair—mostly because he feared that if he moved, he would be tempted to lift the other man by the collar and physically shove him out the door—Cole tried to see beyond the words. Rob was after something. That was a given. Was he here simply to discuss his organization, or was he nosing around to see if he could get to Jenna through Cole?

  “Mr. Elias, I admire the work you’re planning to do. It sounds like a cause that needs to be addressed, and I can see how you would be the right person to do it. However, that’s all I can give you, now or in the future. If and when I’m elected, if you want to bring your request to the town planning board, you are free to do so.”

  Rob watched him intently before shrugging. “I’ll be on my way then.”

  “I think that’s a good plan.” And one that was long overdue.

  Rob stood and hesitated. Cole braced himself for a handshake. Instead, Rob shoved his hands in his pockets.

  “Not many men would have dared to let anyone with my name be part of their staff. I think that says a lot about you, Cole. You’ll do what’s right for this town.”

  “That’s the plan.”

  Rob walked to the door. Hand on the knob, he stopped. Without turning around he said, “If you could tell Jenna that I hope she’s happy . . . I would appreciate that very much.”

  Cole had no desire or plan to become a message carrier for Rob Elias, of all people. But there was such naked yearning in the other man’s voice that he couldn’t brush the request aside.

  “I’ll pass that on.”

  Rob’s head bowed. And Cole had the strong impression that, while Rob might have been sincere in his requests about the organization, his true purpose in showing up on Cole’s door had now been accomplished.

  Chapter Twelve

  It took a couple of days before Cole had the chance to talk to Jenna about what had happened. She was at headquarters that night and the next, but so were a half dozen other people. Even though his purpose in talking to her was strictly election-related—okay, semi-related—he knew there were whispers about the two of them already. He wasn’t about to fuel them by telling her to meet him in the kitchen for a private discussion.

  Three mornings after talking to Rob, Cole finally broke down and sent Jenna a text.

  I need to talk to you.

  Oooh baby.

  Sorry. Just to talk.

  Is this about the weekend?

  How to tell her that he wanted this behind them so she could process it before they went away?

  No. Still going. But I need to touch base with you before then. Trust me on this, okay?

  Sure. How cloak-and-dagger must we be?

  God, he hated when she joked like that. It cast a layer of sordidness over their relationship. He knew she understood, that she wanted to keep things light and quiet, too—after all, it wasn’t like they were trying to build any kind of future together—but he would have liked to be more open. Hiding her away like this felt wrong.

  I could meet you on campus for lunch.

  Sure. Maybe at a bakery, so you could buy a cake for Tadeson. Since, you know, being seen in public with me would be the equivalent of giving him a cakewalk.

  He wasn’t sure if her being the one who was most aware of the problems was better or worse.

  Fine. We can sit in my car. I’ll bring the food.

  You do that. I’ll bring the cloak and dagger.r />
  Sure enough, when she appeared at the passenger door a few minutes after one, she was wrapped in something that looked suspiciously like a cape. And God help him if she didn’t have a butter knife clutched in her hand.

  “Are you for real?” he said once she was in the car.

  “Nope. I’m your biggest fantasy, come to life.” Which she proved by delivering a kiss that had him thinking about backseats, hotel rooms, and the Pleasure Palace.

  When he could breathe again, he reached into the backseat and pulled up a bag. “Here you go, Sherlock. Turkey or ham?”

  “Half of each.” She peeked into the bag. “Tell me there’s a cookie in there and you might get a semi-public blow job.

  He gripped the wheel. “Jenna . . .”

  “Fine, fine. I’ll behave.” She unwrapped her sandwich and took a healthy bite. “So what has you so hot and bothered? Besides misbehaving with me, I mean.”

  The weekend couldn’t get here fast enough.

  “Your father came to see me the morning after the debate.”

  Her mouth sagged open. It took a few seconds before she began chewing again, this time with a lot less gusto. “Oh.”

  “He wasn’t . . . it was okay. He wanted to talk to me about a project he has in mind.”

  “Let me guess. Something to do with prisoners?”

  “Yeah. I told him, again, that he needed to go to the state.” Which he had said. Jenna didn’t need to know the rest of the discussion. “He knows you’re working with me.”

  “The slimy— How does he know that?”

  “He’s been at the coffee shop more than once, Jenna. My bet is that sometimes he parks in the lot and watches you and your sister coming and going.”

  “Which means he could easily have seen me going to headquarters. Damn it.” Her eyes flew wide. “The morning after the primary, when he congratulated you. The morning after we . . . oh my God, if he was watching us that night . . .”