Life of the Party

by Kris Fletcher

  “Just wait, Grasshopper. Someday you’ll have kids. Then you’ll understand.”

  Cole tapped the picture of tiny Jenna once again.

  “I’m going to do something, Ram. Allison probably won’t like it.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Yeah. I figured I should let you know, in case you need to talk her down or something.”

  “Decent of you. You want to give me a clue?”

  “Nope.”

  A long sigh brought a grin to Cole’s lips. “You’re going to make a sentimental ass of yourself, aren’t you, Dekker?”

  “Lips are sealed.”

  “Fine. Be that way.” Ram tried to sigh again, but it was cut short by something that sounded suspiciously like a snicker. “Can you at least tell me when to have someone recording Allison?”

  “You’re a sadistic bastard, Ram. That’s why I like you.”

  “And you’re a hopeless idiot, Dekker. That’s why I hope you get her back. Because you need all the love and help you can get.”

  ***

  The text from Kyrie showed up just as Jenna was leaving her last class of the day.

  Sorry to do this, but Lindsay is sick. Can you cover her shift for a couple of hours? Jake said he can come in at six, but if you are free, I could really use you for a while.

  Her first instinct was no. She’d spent the day handling comments from people who had seen her ad. Most of them were supportive. Some were a bit sarcastic, but nothing as bad as she had prepared herself to face. The biggest surprise was how many people told her they’d had no idea she was an Elias until they saw the paper.

  Maybe she wasn’t quite as notorious as she had thought.

  But if she were being honest—which, damn it, she vowed she would do—most of her weariness came from spending the day grabbing her phone every few minutes, checking to see if Cole had sent any message about the ad. She wasted far too much of her day hoping that he would see this as the apology she meant it to be.

  Enough. She was in charge of her life now. What Cole did or didn’t do was out of her control. She was calling the shots.

  Right now, that meant helping the sister who had covered for her this morning. And waiting tables. And taking a good look at the life she had—right here, right now—so she could figure out the parts she liked most. Because those were going to be the real key to her fresh start.

  It was time to make a name for herself.

  ***

  Cole slumped back in his chair and dragged his hand across his gritty eyes once again. Maybe this time he could pluck the exhaustion and worry from them and leave behind nothing but energy and enthusiasm.

  Yeah, he didn’t think so.

  But as he went over the words on the screen once more, reading them out loud, pausing every once in a while to make a note of emphasis or change a phrase, he knew that Mrs. Cowburn would be proud. It was the best speech he had ever written, which was convenient, seeing as it was also the most important one he would ever make. His entire future could well be determined by the few minutes it took him to deliver this talk.

  God, he wished he’d had more sleep. This was almost as bad as the days of working at Dewey Cheatum. Though he couldn’t recall ever feeling so weighed down by what he was doing back then. Maybe because that had been his normal. Maybe because nothing had mattered as much as the task that lay before him in—he checked the clock—three hours.

  Whoa. Only three hours?

  Damn it. Ram had been right.

  He reached up and over his head, stretching out the kinks from too many hours in the chair. His stomach twisted in an unholy mix of exhaustion, anxiety, and coffee. And it hadn’t even been good coffee. If nothing else, he had to make things right with Jenna so he could go back to Brews and Blues. He missed that place.

  Or maybe he just missed walking in and seeing her smile from behind the counter, knowing that the light behind her grin was for him. Because of him.

  Maybe he needed to go through his speech one more time . . .

  No. He’d done his best. Poured his heart onto these pages. If this didn’t do the job, then he didn’t deserve to win either the race or the woman.

  No, right now he needed to have a shower and clear his head and get to headquarters so he could brief his team about what was going to happen tonight. They’d been blindsided enough lately. They didn’t need to have it happen again thanks to him.

  There was just one last thing he needed to do.

  He opened the top drawer of his desk and pulled out the business card he’d tossed inside in anger. He picked up the phone and, with a deep breath, punched in the number on the card.

  “Hello, Mr. Elias.”

  ***

  Jenna spent the late afternoon with the after-work crowd, pouring coffee, running credit cards, and answering questions with all the frankness she could muster. If she couldn’t stop people from talking and wondering, she could at least give them something worthy of the discussion. She knew that.

  What she hadn’t expected was the sense of freedom it gave her. If things couldn’t get any worse—and, given the last couple of days, she was pretty sure that was the case—then that meant they could only get better. She could only get better.

  And if the whole world knew who she was, then that meant she had the same shot no matter where she lived. Which meant she could go anywhere she wanted.

  Or, perhaps, nowhere at all.

  She set her tray on the table a bit too quickly. Coffee slopped over the side of the mugs and onto the shiny surface. Some splashed on her arm. She yanked it back so fast that her elbow connected with someone standing behind her.

  “Ow!” She grabbed at the hot spots and spun around as fast as she dared, toward the ooof still sounding behind her. As soon as she saw who she’d elbowed, she knew she’d been hasty.

  Things had indeed just gotten worse.

  “You know,” Rob said, rubbing at his chest where she must have nabbed him, “all you have to do is ask and I’ll move. There’s no need to pull out the elbows of mass destruction.”

  It was so much like something Margie would say that for a second, her usual Rob-induced wall of anger broke open enough to let a tiny bubble of appreciation slip through.

  “Go up front please,” she said to Rob, and turned her attention—such as it was—back to the customers. To her surprise and gratitude, Rob did as asked.

  “Did I hurt you?” she asked when she was close enough to speak without being overheard.

  “No.”

  She nodded. “Next time I’ll try harder.”

  “Wouldn’t expect anything less.” Rob glanced around the room. “I need to get you out of here. How soon can you leave?”

  “Excuse me? You aren’t even supposed to come into this shop, and you have the nerve to stand there and tell me that—”

  “That I have been given strict orders to make sure you are at the fire station in the next half hour.”

  The fire station? But—that was on Cole’s schedule. His last big public address before the election.

  “I can’t go there.”

  “Can’t, or won’t?”

  Oh, hell. Things were really messed up when Rob started making sense.

  Jenna looked out the window in search of new customers. She scanned the room, hoping someone had spilled a giant latte all over the floor. Maybe someone could be having a medical emergency. A birth would be good. Anything that meant she could block out Rob’s voice and all the waves of hope it set sloshing around inside her.

  Because she couldn’t risk hope. Hope was the bitch that lived to torture, making everything sound possible and doable only to dance out of reach at the very last second, laughing and pointing an upraised finger at Jenna as it fled. She couldn’t go through that again.

  “I can’t go there,” she said again, this t
ime in a voice thickened by the tears she fought to hold back. “I know you think I should go out there and face them down, but I can do that here. I am doing it here.”

  “Who said anything about facing anyone down?” Rob’s hand fluttered in and out of her vision until one finger settled gently beneath her chin and tipped it up. “He wants you there, Jennie Jenkins. He wants you there so much that he called me and asked me to bring you up there.”

  She swallowed hard. “But why?”

  “All he said was that he wanted to make things right.”

  Go away, stupid hope.

  “That could mean a lot of things,” she said.

  “It could. But have you ever known him to be cruel or vindictive?”

  Cole? No. Never. That’s wasn’t who he was.

  “Jenna, I know you hate me. You have that right. But I’m still your father and I still want you to be happy. So take off your apron and let’s go.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  If, back in June, someone had told Cole that there would come a day when he would be happy to see Robert Elias walk into his final campaign event, he would have choked on air and recommended that the person making the suggestion take a Breathalyzer test. Yet here he was, shaking hands and answering questions and sneaking peeks at the door every other second.

  He had to get a grip. These folks deserved his full attention.

  But if Jenna refused to listen to Rob . . .

  If she refused to believe him . . .

  If she didn’t want anything to do with Cole after he basically gave her the light version of the treatment she had received from the two most important men in her life . . .

  “Hi there.” He gripped the hand being extended toward him, smiling at the small elderly woman standing in front of him. “Cole Dekker. Thanks for coming out today.”

  “I know who you are,” the woman said, and there was a hint of steel in her voice that had him standing straighter, gripping her hand slightly more forcefully. “Though I must say,” she continued, “you’ve changed more than I have since we last met.”

  He took a step back. Squinted. And felt his Serous Politician face being replaced by something a lot more middle-school-ish.

  “Mrs. Cowburn?”

  She laughed and patted his arm. “I think that you can call me Betty at this point.”

  “Wow. Bet—” Nope. He couldn’t do it. He might be all grown-up, but he could not call his sixth-grade English teacher by her first name. “If I say long time no see, will you mark me down for using a cliché?”

  “In this case I might be convinced to let it slide.”

  “It’s so good to see you. What are you doing these days?”

  “As little as possible,” she said, and laughed lightly before launching into a quick catch-up of the last twenty years. Cole had always known that teachers could pack more into a day than most people did in a week, but by the time Mrs. Cowburn finished, he felt like he’d watched a mashup of the lives of Einstein, Shatner, and the last three popes.

  “And you still found time to come here tonight and listen to me? I’m honored.”

  “Yes, you are,” she replied without batting an eyelash. “But after the paper printed those ridiculous insinuations, I couldn’t stay away. You need to know that many, many people support you.”

  “Thank you.” The words seemed so small in comparison to the gratitude flowing through him, but he trusted that she could hear beyond the words.

  “Paul Tadeson was a good mayor, but he’s become too comfortable.” Mrs. Cowburn shook her head. “It’s time for someone new to take over. Someone with lots of ideas and nothing to hide.”

  And that, of course, was the moment when the room went still. Every head turned toward the door, where Rob waved with all the dignity of the Queen.

  Mrs. Cowburn reared back. Not much. But it was enough to send Cole tumbling into the past.

  “Mr. Dekker,” she began, and Cole braced himself for her to add, Do I need to call your mother?

  But either Mrs. Cowburn had mellowed over the years, or fate had decided that Cole deserved a break this time. For at that moment, Jenna appeared in the door.

  Cole had never known that it was possible to be both elated and terrified at the same moment. Now he did. Because even though Jenna was in the building, she didn’t look happy.

  If she had simply been wearing the mix of hurt and anger that usually accompanied her doings with her father, Cole would have understood. But that wasn’t the case this time. Her shoulders were hunched and her eyes darted around the room. She looked . . . smaller, almost. Like she was pulling herself in.

  Like she was scared.

  The truth was slow to register because he had never seen her this way before. But once it hit him, it was as if someone had reached deep inside him, grabbed hold of his gut, and yanked.

  Jenna didn’t get scared. This was the woman who had faced down her father and tossed him out of the coffee shop. This was the woman who had sat in front of him, spelled out exactly why it would be a bad idea for him to let her work with him, then asked him to do it anyway. This was the woman who had corrected Allison on fundraising and jumped him after the primary and marched confidently into an interview.

  But now someone had her wrapping her arms around herself and pushing her hair behind her ear. Someone had her stopping in the door, like a swimmer at the edge of a semi-frozen pond.

  Some bastard had done this to her.

  The bile rising in his throat told him that he didn’t need to look far to find out who was behind her fear.

  He didn’t know he had taken a step toward her until a soft but freakishly strong hand fastened on his arm. “Oh no, you don’t,” said Mrs. Cowburn. “She has to do this herself.”

  He knew Jenna couldn’t have heard the words. But no sooner had Mrs. Cowburn spoken than Jenna seemed to have received the message. She glanced around the room once more. Then, to Cole’s amazement, she looked at Rob.

  And smiled.

  It wasn’t what anyone would call a hey, good to see you kind of grin. It was steelier than that. More forced. Like a gauntlet had been tossed and she was gearing herself up to accept it.

  Then her shoulders went back, her chin snapped up, and her eyes sparked. She gave her arms the little wiggle she usually did after setting down a heavy tray, tucked her tiny purse under her arm, and walked into the room. Straight to Allison, watching from near the microphones with a look of fond exasperation.

  Pride rushed through Cole.

  The grip on his arm relaxed. “You know,” said Mrs. Cowburn, “it takes a strong woman to push past her fear.”

  “Amen to that.”

  “But it takes a smart woman to make sure everyone knows that she gives zero fucks about what they might think of her.”

  ***

  Jenna kept her eyes straight ahead as she made her way to Allison, the crowd parting before her like she was Moses. Or a leper.

  Nah. This was her story. Moses worked.

  Every atom inside her wanted to go straight to Cole, but she had to play this right. Cole was the candidate but Allison was running the show. She deserved the courtesy of being addressed first.

  Not only that, but if Jenna received Allison’s blessing, folks would be more lenient about her and Cole. Anyone could dismiss a man accepting a woman as a sex thing. But add a smart, driven boss-lady to the mix, and there was a whole different level of respect at play.

  “I had a feeling you would be here,” Allison said as soon as Jenna was within earshot.

  “I was invited.”

  “Your chauffeur?” Allison inclined her head toward Rob, hovering somewhere in the background.

  “For the moment. Also by invitation. Not mine.”

  Allison seemed to ponder that for a second before nodding sharply. “Well. That may turn out to be the
most boneheaded move of the entire race, but on the other hand, go big or go home, right?”

  “That seems to be the intention.”

  At last, Jenna let herself look toward Cole. He bent slightly at the waist, talking to a woman who could have been the model for a Keebler Elf, and anyone else would think that he was unaware of all the others in the room. But Jenna knew. She saw the tiny tilt of his head. She could almost feel the shift in his hips, as if he were being gently but surely tugged by an invisible thread.

  She was pretty sure that the other end of the thread was looped around her heart.

  What she would give to make all these people disappear so she could go to him and wrap her arms around him and tell him she understood, she was sorry, she hoped to God he might be up for a second chance . . .

  “It’s time for him to speak.” Allison tapped her tablet. “I’m going to drag him away from the Sugar Plum Granny. Want me to give him a message?”

  “Tell him . . .” How to put it all into a handful of words? “Tell him I’m glad I’m here.”

  “Got it.” Elbows flying, Allison dove through the crowd. Jenna was pretty sure she shouldn’t be near the front when Cole started to speak, so she drifted toward the back, stopping to trade a few words with Ram and Tim.

  The eyes of the audience were still on her. She could feel them. But while the curiosity was there in abundance, for the first time she didn’t sense any disapproval.

  Maybe because the only one who had really disapproved of her actions and her associations had been her.

  Slowly and deliberately, she made her way to Rob, who leaned casually against the back wall with his arms crossed.

  “Any idea what’s happening?” he asked when she stopped in front of him.

  “There’s going to be a speech.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Bree doesn’t have to worry about you taking her place as the smart one.”

  “If you’re trying to butter me up so I’ll put in a good word for you with her, you can save your breath.”

  Rob jerked his chin. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

  Jenna took the bit of wall beside him, her gaze locked on Cole as he moved to the microphone. “You know this doesn’t mean anything has changed. Between you and me, I mean.”