Life of the Party

by Kris Fletcher

  “He’s not a stalker, babe. I don’t think he’s parked out there nonstop.”

  “Probably not, but I’m checking the lot when I’m done here. Telling Kyrie to watch out, too.” Her nose wrinkled.

  “Don’t get in a knot over it, okay?” He slid his arm across her back and tucked her against his shoulder, kissing the top of her head. Come on, weekend. “There’s two other things.”

  “And the hits just keep on coming.”

  “First, I’m pretty sure he suspects that you’re doing more than just writing press releases with me.”

  “What did he say?”

  “Nothing. It’s more of a gut feeling.”

  “Lovely.”

  “The other thing is, when he was leaving, he asked me to tell you that he hopes you’re happy.”

  She sat in silence, her fingers toying with the edge of the paper around her sandwich. He had a sudden memory of Abby doing that same motion with the ears of her favorite teddy bear when she was tiny. For a moment, the only sounds in the car were the crinkle of waxed paper and Jenna’s deliberate, artificially regular breaths—breaths that he was pretty sure had little to do with oxygen and a lot to do with maintaining control.

  “I wish he had never come back,” she said, low and fierce.

  “Jenna . . . is he the main reason you want to leave Calypso Falls?”

  She stiffened slightly in his embrace.

  “Him being here has nothing to do with it. I’d made up my mind ages ago. I think I came to that decision about an hour or two after Kendall told me that when I got out of the hospital, I shouldn’t bother showing up at our house.”

  Cole had never considered himself a violent man, but at that moment, he could have gladly tossed Jenna’s ex through a windshield or two.

  “But I guess it does come down to him. His actions, his reputation. Changing my name was a good plan, one that puts distance between him and me, but here in Calypso Falls, that’s not enough. There’s enough people here who know I’m related to him. Between his antics and my history and some of the lies Kendall spread about me, I don’t think I could ever get an unbiased opinion around here.”

  “It’s not going to be the same without you.”

  “Of course not. Nothing is ever as wonderful if I’m not part of it.” But her bravado rang hollow, failing to cover the weariness and hurt beneath it.

  Of course, Brockport wasn’t that far away, really. Two hours was a bit far for dinner, but for a weekend . . .

  He caught himself mid-yearning. No. She had made it very clear that whatever was between them, it was only for now. No plans beyond the next few weeks. No promises beyond Election Day.

  “What will you do if you don’t have a job lined up by the end of the semester?”

  He wasn’t sure where the question came from. Desperation, probably.

  “Move anyway. Rochester, probably. I could waitress or work in a Starbucks while I find something.”

  For some reason, that simple plan was what made it clear in a whole new way that she was really leaving. Come January 1st, he could be getting sworn in and she would not be among the celebrants.

  Funny. Until now, he hadn’t realized that when he imagined the ceremony, he had always pictured her there.

  Purely because she’d played such a big role in the campaign, he was sure.

  At least that was what he told himself.

  ***

  Jenna gave herself the afternoon to calm down. When, by the end of classes, she no longer felt like she was on the verge of a full-out toddler tantrum, she hopped in the car and made a detour to Annie’s day care on her way home. If all else failed, she could pick up some meltdown tips from the pros.

  Annie was outside on the playground when Jenna arrived, talking to a teacher and blowing bubbles for the half dozen or so giggling, squealing kiddos doing their best to chase them. It was hard to tell how many there were when they were in motion. But Annie was always talking about ratios, so Jenna was pretty sure there weren’t really fifty of them, even though it felt that way.

  “Hi!” Annie handed the bubbles to the teacher, scooped a kid out of puddle, and swung the kid sideways in front of her as she walked, like the pendulum in a grandfather clock. Sure enough, the kid started yelling something that sounded like, “Tick tock! Tick tock!” before erupting into fits of giggles.

  “Remind me again where you got this nurturing gene,” Jenna said when she could be heard over the chortles. “It’s so non-Elias.”

  “Hello? Mom had five kids. You don’t call that nurturing?”

  “I call that a Catholic who should have lapsed a lot earlier. Can I steal you for a bit?”

  “If you can wait a couple of minutes, the other teacher will be back from her break and I can leave. Otherwise, sorry, I have to stay here. Ratios.”

  “Got it.” Jenna looked down at the small child now using Annie’s leg as a ladder. “I thought only dogs did that to people’s legs.”

  “You have a filthy mind.”

  “Hey, I’ve seen some of the things you’ve made out of Play-Doh. You have no room to talk.”

  “This coming from the woman who taught me how to sing ‘The Rodeo Song’ when I was only five.”

  Jenna grinned. “That was a good one.”

  “Sick, Jen. Totally sick. Is Kyrie home or with Ben these days? I can never keep it straight.”

  “Home through the weekend. She leaves Monday. And you’re not the only one. I keep telling her that she has to put a giant sign saying GONE on her bedroom door. Otherwise, she could be dying in there and I wouldn’t even think to check on her.”

  “I would,” Annie said, holding the child’s hands while he . . . she . . . it climbed up her legs and did a backflip.

  “Did that really just happen? Did that little person really just use you as a piece of gym equipment?”

  “That’s nothing. When it’s cold and sneezing season, I’m a walking snot rag. Here’s Marlena. Let’s go inside.”

  Soon they were seated in Annie’s office. The toy cars had been removed from the visitor’s chair, the kettle was heating for tea, and the door was blessedly shut.

  Jenna had nothing against kids. In small numbers , she found them fun and interesting. But mass quantities didn’t always mean mass appeal.

  “So what’s up?” Annie tossed her jacket on a hook and poured water into mugs. “Not to make you feel guilty or anything, but I think the last time you were here was for the grand opening.”

  “For which I had my then-husband donate a very nice check, so nope, no guilt here.” Jenna squinted at a crayon drawing that looked like Picasso Does Annie. “This is about our father. And if you repeat any of it to anyone who is capable of speech, I’m writing you out of my will.”

  “You don’t have any money anymore, and believe it or not, most people don’t give a rat’s ass what you’re up to, Jen. But I know how to keep quiet. What’s up?”

  “Back when he first moved here, you said something about getting together with him.”

  Annie dunked a tea bag into her mug. “Right. We had lunch.”

  Jenna wrapped her hands around her mug to steady them. “Do you have a way to contact him? E-mail, preferably?”

  “E-mail, cell phone, and address.”

  Well, that was helpful. Or it would have been if Annie had given any indication that she was going to hand them over.

  “Uh, Annie? Am I supposed to read your mind, or are you going to give me at least one of those bits of information?”

  “I will.” Annie hoisted her mug. “After you tell me why you need it.”

  This was why Jenna sometimes used to daydream about being an only child.

  “It’s personal.”

  “He’s your father. Of course it’s personal. But the last time you mentioned him, I believe the term ‘wrin
kled weasel fucker’ crossed your lips once or twice. So I want to know what brought about this change.”

  “I thought that changing her mind was every woman’s prerogative.”

  “It is. And torturing big sisters is every little sister’s prerogative. So . . . spill.”

  Jenna had the highly unpleasant feeling that she might have been the one to teach Annie the fine art of negotiation, if not by actual instruction, then by example. If so, she was dealing with a master. If she wanted to get out of here without being sucked into painting a playroom or washing some toys, she might as well surrender.

  “Fine.” As concisely as possible, she explained Rob’s shanghaiing of the debate and his subsequent visit to Cole’s office. She was pretty sure she managed to omit anything that would make Annie suspect that Jenna was revising more than just Cole’s speeches.

  “Oh, he has you over a barrel but good,” Annie said when Jenna finished.

  “I know. Cole was too nice to say anything, but—”

  Annie snorted. “A nice politician. Right.”

  “It can happen. Anyway, I’m sure he is well aware, as I am, and you probably are already because you are just the right amount of warped, that if Rob wants to be nasty, all he has to do is walk into Tadeson’s campaign headquarters and tell them that Cole has an Elias volunteering for him. That should make for some interesting innuendos for the rest of the race.”

  “You honestly think no one there has a clue already?”

  Jenna picked up a ball of half-dried Play-Doh and squished it between her hands. “At this point, probably. But if they make a fuss based only on their own observations, people will think, hey, are they sniffing around Cole’s place? It feels kind of slimy. But if they can say, you know, someone pointed this out to it and has some concerns about it—”

  “Dad wouldn’t be concerned.”

  “Please. All he would have to do is say something like, ‘Well, I don’t know if this is such a good idea,’ and they could legitimately claim that Anonymous Citizen has expressed doubt about the wisdom of this collaboration. It’s all about the way you say it.”

  “So how come Dad hasn’t gone to them already?”

  Dad. Jenna squished the Play-Doh so it oozed between her fingers.

  “My bet is he’s trying to get to me. He knows I won’t talk to him directly, he knows I’m involved with Cole—”

  Annie’s head snapped up.

  “The election, dim bulb. And Rob’s betting that I’ll read between the lines and see that the balance of power has now shifted in his favor.” She stared bleakly at her hands. “Which it really has. I didn’t know how much until just now, spelling it out for you.”

  “So walk away from the race, let Cole’s people handle it, and tell Dad to go blow an exhaust pipe.”

  “It’s not that simple.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I like what I’m doing. I’m enjoying my time there.”

  “Is it just the work that you like? Hmmmmm?”

  “You are so warped. Yes. I like the work, Annie Belle. I’m good at it and I think I’m helping, and I will be damned if I let that . . . that . . .”

  “Weasel fucker?”

  “Yeah, him. I will not let him steal this from me, too. No way. He can’t make me quit and I will absolutely not let him do anything to damage Cole’s chances in the race.”

  “Purely because you think Cole would be the better mayor, of course.”

  “Yes.”

  Annie snorted.

  “Go ahead. Laugh. But I gave you my reasons, so now pay up. E-mail or cell number.”

  Annie stared at her the way Jenna was sure she would a kid insisting he hadn’t smeared the paint on the wall even though his hands were blue, but Jenna refused to crack. At last Annie sighed and pulled out her phone.

  “Here.” She punched buttons. A moment later, Jenna heard the low buzz of her phone vibrating.

  “It’s all yours.” Annie sat back. “I’ll warn you, he’s persistent. Like he’s trying to make up for twenty-five years in two weeks . I finally had to tell him, once a month, take it or leave it.”

  “Bet he loved that.”

  Annie shrugged. “Weasel fuckers don’t get to call the shots. But then, I don’t have anything he can use against me.”

  “Lucky you,” Jenna said, and she meant it. She had never been able to decide who had it worse: her, Bree, and the twins, who had known their father and grieved his so-called death, or Annie, who had never had him in her life at all. Annie claimed it didn’t bother her, but Jenna had a hunch that her baby sister’s need to surround herself with lots of loving little people might have a few Freudian reasons.

  “What’s he like?” Jenna kind of hated herself for asking, but her curiosity couldn’t be denied. “I mean, to sit down with him, without all the baggage I would bring. What do you talk about?”

  Annie stared into space. “It was . . . I don’t know. Awkward at first. No surprise there, right? But he’s an interesting guy. Has some good stories. And he knows how to get people talking.” She snapped back to the moment. “Mostly, he wants to know about us, and what we’re doing now, and what we’ve been up to for the last couple of decades.”

  “You think he’s mining for blackmail material?”

  “I don’t know him well enough to say. That’s why I’m always careful. I talk about me mostly, not because I’m so fascinating, but because, you know, I understand you guys might not want your information shared. When I do mention the rest of you, it’s always from way in the past. I figure he can’t get much leverage out of something that happened when you were ten years old.”

  “And people always say that Bree is the smart one.” Admiration swelled within Jenna. “Thanks, hon.”

  “You’re my sisters. I’m not going to let anyone hurt you.”

  Something about the way Annie said it had Jenna leaning forward in the chair. “Annie, you’re not setting yourself up as the sacrificial lamb, are you? You know, letting him talk to you so he’ll leave the rest of us alone?”

  “I—” An odd expression crossed Annie’s face. She clamped her mouth shut.

  “Oh, sweetie. You don’t have to do that.”

  Annie shook her head. “I didn’t think I was. I told myself, oh, just curious. But I don’t know. You might be onto something.” She frowned and continued, “But you know what? Even if I am . . . it’s okay. You guys have looked out for me all my life. I might not have planned to have the chance to return the favor, but if that’s how it played out, then you know what? I’m good with that.”

  “Oh my God. You really are all grown-up now, aren’t you?” But Jenna found she had to work to get the words out around the ridiculous lump in her throat.

  “Believe it or not,” Annie said with a grin. “Which means that you, big sister, are older than dirt.”

  Like Jenna didn’t already know that.

  Even if she hadn’t, she was pretty sure that preparing to bargain with her father would have left her feeling ancient, no matter how many years she had behind her.

  ***

  Jenna had never been one to put off the inevitable, even when it was unpleasant. She got her teeth cleaned every six months, she put her feet in those damned stirrups and heeded the call to “slide down, please” every two years, and she had actually been on her way to talk to a divorce lawyer when she got in the accident. It might take her a while to admit she needed to do something, but once she accepted that it had to be done, clear the track because she wasn’t slowing down.

  Which was why, after she left Annie’s, she drove around the corner to the grocery store parking lot and placed the call to her father.

  “Hello?” His voice was froggy and thick, like he hadn’t spoken to anyone in a while.

  “It’s Jenna.”

  “Ah.”

 
He didn’t sound surprised. Further proof that his shenanigans had had a dual purpose.

  “I need you to stay away from this election.”

  Rob made an odd humming noise. Or was it more of a smothered chuckle? Whatever it was, it had her gritting her teeth in a way she hadn’t since Kendall walked out on her.

  “That’s an interesting request, Jenna.”

  “It’s not a request.”

  “Ah. Well, you see, it’s a free country. And now that I’ve done my time, I’m a voting citizen again. Are you trying to deprive me of my legal right?”

  “You can vote as often as you want. I don’t care one way or the other. But I need you to stay out of the election itself. No more debates, no more visits to Cole’s office, no running to Tadeson with stories.”

  “Did your candidate tell you what I wanted? It’s a legitimate project, Jenna.”

  “I’m sure it was just as legitimate as your death certificate.”

  The bastard laughed. “You remind me of Margie.”

  “Better than reminding folks of you.” She stared through the windshield, focusing on a maple in the median of the parking lot. Most of its leaves had dropped, leaving it rising out of a carpet of brilliant orange and gold. Seeing it was a desperately needed reminder that nothing lasted forever.

  “Look. Let’s cut right to the chase, okay? We both know that for some reason, you want to talk to me.”

  “I want to get to know you again. Yes.”

  “So since we all know how fond you are of backroom deals, I have one for you. Stay away from everything to do with this race—campaign appearances, Cole’s office, Tadeson, everything—and I will have breakfast with you once a month for the rest of the year.”

  “Interesting proposition. But that’s only three months, and once the election is over, I don’t think you’d be inclined to keep up with your end of the bargain.”

  “Ah, yes. Projecting your character flaws onto everyone else. I learned about that in Psych 101.”

  His silence made her wonder if she had gone too far. Crap. If she ended up pushing him into doing something that would hurt Cole . . .

  Please. I know I’m a screwup, but please. Cole is one of the good guys. Please don’t make him pay for my messes.