by Nic Tatano
“Thank you, Tyler. I felt like a queen today.”
“And you deserve to be treated like one. Well, glad you had a good time. Your tweets were hilarious as well. Listen, I’m gonna turn in. I’ll see you tomorrow when you get back.”
“Oh, okay. See you then. G’night.”
“Night, T.G.”
The screen goes dark and I see the conversation lasted a little longer than one minute. Usually we talk for more than an hour.
I can tell from his look something’s wrong.
***
“No! Absolutely not! I don’t give a damn if you are the head of the party, I’m not going to authorize that and neither will Frank. She’ll be hurt, not to mention it will offend millions of Americans. I personally find it in really poor taste. And don’t even think about having one of your secret political action committees doing it, because I’ll find out and there will be hell to pay. You don’t want what I know about you getting out.” Tyler slams the phone down and looks up to find me standing in the doorway with my mouth hanging open. “Oh, sorry. Didn’t know you were standing there. Now you know I have a dark side.”
“Actually, nice to know you can get pissed off. What was that all about?”
He waves it away. “Nothing. Just a fire I had to put out.”
“Nothing my ass. You said she’ll be hurt. Unless Becker’s had a sex change, I assume you were talking about me.”
His face tightens and he exhales audibly as he leans back in his chair. “Fine. Close the door.”
I do so, then take a seat next to him as I slide a gift basket on the table. “What’s wrong, Tyler?”
“That was James Hennison, head of the party. He wanted to do something I thought was in seriously bad taste.”
“Concerning me?”
He nods.
“What?”
“He suggested we do a poll on you and Becker.”
“I thought some newspaper already did that.”
“Not the same thing. He wanted a poll on… how far your relationship should go. Specifically, if conservative voters would be turned off if you two…you know…”
“What?”
“Had sex before getting married.”
I sit up straight and my eyes widen. “You gotta be kidding me!”
“Nope. Someone high up in the party is worried that pre-marital sex would cost votes. I believe the term was living in sin.”
I fold my arms as my eyes narrow. “Whose idea was this?”
“Don’t know.”
“C’mon, Tyler. You know everything. Spill.”
“I’m being honest. I would never lie to you. If I knew who it was I’d kick their ass. In any event, I killed it.”
“What’s to prevent someone going rogue and doing it anyway?”
“Trust me, T.G., no one wants to deal with me if I’m pissed off. And I’d be really pissed off if someone hurt you. The idea is dead and buried.”
“What was that you said?… you don’t want what I know about you getting out… you’ve got blackmail material on Hennison?”
“No, but he doesn’t know that. Look, everyone in politics has skeletons, but they don’t know what I might have. I use that line on everyone so they assume I have something since they all have something to hide. Works every time.”
“Pretty slick, Tyler.”
“You probably shouldn’t play poker with me.”
“No, I guess not.” I exhale some tension and relax a bit, then rest one hand on his shoulder. “Well, once again you saved me, superhero. I’ve really gotta get a nickname for you.”
He finally notices I placed a huge basket of food on the table. “That your lunch box?”
“Very funny.” I slide it in front of him. “Nope, this is for you. Yesterday I was really wishing you were along for the trip and I missed you, so I picked up a little something at every stop.”
His face brightens as he pokes through the goodies in the basket. “Raspberry preserves, chocolates, nuts, cookies, a cupcake—”
“Well, there were, uh, two cupcakes.”
He rolls his eyes.
“Kidding!”
His eyes light up as he continues looking at the contents. “This is really nice. You didn’t have to go through all this trouble.”
“Like you don’t go out of your way for me. And after the way you looked last night, I’m glad I did. I hope this cheers you up a little.”
“It does. Thank you, it’s very thoughtful. No one’s ever done anything like this for me.”
“Well, I know you have a hard time traveling but I wanted you to feel like you’re along for the ride.”
His eyes start getting misty and he bites his lower lip.
I put my arm around his shoulders and give him a hug. “You sure you don’t wanna talk about it?”
He shakes his head. “I can’t.”
“Well, whatever is bugging you, Tyler, just know I’m here to help if you need me. I’ll always be there for you the way you are for me.”
***
Kristin Becker stands up and smiles as I weave my way through the tables in the crowded restaurant. I hear my name whispered by several people who recognize me, some probably from TV, most from Page Six. The Senator’s daughter shakes my hand as I arrive and take off my coat.
“Thanks for doing this, Cassidy,” she says, as we both sit down.
“My pleasure. I’m flattered that you’d rather talk to me than hit a beach on spring break.”
“My sister and I aren’t much for partying and no one needs to see a candidate’s daughter hammered on South Padre Island. We’re more concerned about our careers, so any help you can provide is great.”
“Well, I’ve always liked helping the interns at the network, and you need to know where all the minefields are if you’re going into the business.”
“Minefields?”
“Politics is worse, but TV news is another backstabbing industry. And, as I mentioned, people are already going to dislike you because they think you have an unfair advantage.”
“Are you already telling me not to go into the business?”
“I’m just warning you what to expect in the real world. In college you have these rose colored glasses and view that you’ll be able to change the world with a story, then you get your first job and realize the beancounters that run the place don’t give a damn about anything but the bottom line.”
She nods as she picks up the menu. “So it really is just like politics.”
Kristin is a pleasant young lady, but not what I expected. Her dislike of politics seems to go beyond a simple distaste for the process. I can tell she’s not wild about her father running for president and the possibility of being part of the nation’s first family.
In any event, the topic of my dating her father has not come up, which makes me wonder if she approves. And I really need to know because I don’t want to be one of those second wives who comes between a guy and his children.
“Kristin, I wanted to talk about what happened with me and your dad, and that photo—”
She smiles and waves her hand. “No big deal, Cassidy. We knew he had the hots for you and it was only a matter of time before he started dating again. I mean, he’s not that old.”
“Well, I was worried that seeing the photo before he had a chance to talk to you would make you guys upset.”
“No, it’s fine. You seem like a good person and he really raved about you. And Cassidy, if your relationship becomes really serious, you don’t have to worry about us being those types of kids who hate the second wife.”
I exhale some tension. “Thank you, that’s good to hear.” I pause a moment, take a sip of water. “I lost my parents pretty young. Not as young as you two, but it still hurts.”
“We were really close to mom. She home-schooled us, you know, so we were around her constantly. And with my father away so much it was almost like being raised by a single parent.”
“Probably why you hate politics so much.”
“That’s a big part of it. I mean, my father loved mom and was great to us, he just wasn’t around much. But when she lost the baby, it really changed her. She was never the same.”
I sit up straight. “Oh, I didn’t know.”
“It’s not common knowledge as it’s very painful for my father to revisit and he doesn’t ever talk about it. We had a little brother for a couple of days, but he was born with a lot of physical problems and died before he ever came home. Mom was devastated. Didn’t even go to the funeral. Neither did we. Dad didn’t want us to experience that.”
“He was obviously trying to protect you.”
“I guess. We tried our best to comfort her, but it was like part of her had died, like she had this hole in her heart that could never be filled. It had been one of those rough pregnancies where she had to stay in bed almost the whole nine months. Hardly anyone even knew she was pregnant. She was really shy, opposite of dad, and she didn’t tell anyone because if she miscarried she didn’t want to have to answer questions that were bound to make her cry. Anyway, we were little kids, we didn’t know what to say. Dad stayed home for three months but it still didn’t help. I mean, he was pretty depressed as well. I remember he had a priest come over just about every day after the baby died for a couple of weeks. They would talk in his office for hours. Mom never looked at Dad the same after that, like she blamed him. We always felt there was something she wasn’t telling us, but we could tell their relationship had gotten cold after that.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. I almost lost my brother in a car accident that killed my parents, so I can relate.”
“I read about him. That was a nice story. Sounds like you have a relationship like I have with my sister.”
“Yeah, Sam’s great. Couldn’t live without him.”
“I often wonder what our brother would have been like. If he’d take after mom or dad, or be a combination of both. But I guess it’s a blessing that God took him. We’ll meet him eventually. His name was Brian.”
“So when did this happen?”
“Spring in 2005. He was born April thirteenth to be exact.”
Missing time…off the grid.
This explains a lot.
Except… his perfect voting record.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
@TwitterGirl
Gavin Turner making plans for his Presidential library. Already signed Crayola as a sponsor.
Finally, Will and I are going to go out tomorrow on an actual Saturday night date and spend the weekend together. His daughters are supposed to be in town and he managed to score four tickets to the hottest Broadway musical that has been sold out forever. It will be the first time we’re all out together and I’m interested to see how the girls react. I’m planning to be very low key, with no public displays of affection beyond hand holding while they’re around.
And when they’re not around? Who knows. At least there’s not a poll on that thanks to Tyler. But the whole staff has Monday off as we’re pretty much fried from the whole Super Tuesday thing and Frank thinks we need a break. Will is looking tired and the public needs to see the energetic Senator who will revitalize the White House. Though the party nomination is close to being sewed up, we’ve still got seven months to go. It should be a knock down drag out affair against the President and he needs to pace himself.
So I’m walking with a spring in my step as I head into Will Becker’s office.
And the spring pops when I see his face.
“Fine,” he says, exhaling obvious disgust as he shakes his head. “I know I have to be there. At some point the public needs to know I’m doing my job as a Senator and they’re not paying me to campaign all year. See you tonight.” He ends the call and looks up at me. “Well, so much for our long weekend.”
“What happened?”
“Special session of the Senate. It’s a major vote that I cannot possibly miss, and the debate will probably go on all weekend with a vote on Tuesday or Wednesday.”
“Well, as I heard you say, it is your job. I’ll take your daughters to the play if they don’t mind. It can be a girls’ night out.”
“Oh, and it turns out I screwed up on the dates when I got these tickets months ago. They have exams starting Monday and won’t be here.” He reaches in his desk, pulls out an envelope and hands it to me. “Take some of your friends.”
“You can hand them out to the staff if you want to give out some rewards.”
“Nah, you take ’em. I know much you wanted to see that show.” He gets up and puts on his suit jacket. “Got a plane to catch. See you next week. I hope.” He gives me a quick hug and kiss and heads out.
I open the envelope, look at the four tickets, and know immediately who to take. I head across the office to the war room and poke my head inside. “Hey, Tyler, you like Broadway musicals?”
“Love ’em. Why?”
“Becker can’t go and I can’t think of a better escort. Be my date tomorrow night?”
***
We pull out of the parking lot after the play, which was terrific. Sam maneuvers his van deftly through the Manhattan traffic and hops onto a bridge. “I’ve discovered a new place for cheesecake. It’s decadent. They’ve got a dozen flavors.”
I’m hungry again so that’s good news. I turn to Tyler who is sharing the back seat with me. “You hungry?”
“I never turn down cheesecake.”
Ripley turns around and looks at us. “Neither does she.”
I slap the back of her seat. “Stop it!” Everyone laughs as she turns back, facing front.
“That was a great musical, thanks for asking me,” says Tyler.
“Hey, you’re my go-to guy when I need a cute escort.”
The cheesecake was sadly disappointing, and now I know why I never heard of this place just a mile from our home. I still have a sweet tooth as I climb back into the van at midnight.
Then it hits me.
“Sam, you forgot Tyler lives in Manhattan.”
He slaps his forehead. “Oh, dammit. Sorry, Tyler, I’m so used to driving back to the island.”
“That’s okay. Just drop me off at the ferry,” says Tyler.
“You won’t get home till one or two,” says Sam.
“Well, you’re not driving me. Then you’ll get home at two.”
I see Sam’s eyes light up in the rear view mirror. “Hey, why don’t you stay with us again?”
“You sure?”
“Loved having you the last time.”
Tyler looks at me, sort of asking for permission.
“Yeah, stay with us,” I say. “Of course, there is a charge. You’ll have to do some baking for Sunday brunch.”
“If that’s the only condition, I’d love to stay.”
“Scones!” I yell.
“I’m just a source of food for you,” says Tyler. “But…”
“But what?”
“I don’t have a change of clothes with me.”
Ripley turns around. “Hey Cassidy, didn’t your old boyfriend leave some clothes behind? That guy you dated about three years ago? He was about Tyler’s size.”
“Yeah, you’re right, they’re in the basement. I never got around to bringing them to Goodwill.” I reach over and pat Tyler’s hand. “You’re covered. And since we’re off Monday, you can stay a couple of days.”
“You sure?”
“Hey, how much fun was the last weekend you spent with us?”
“Okay. Oh, speaking of Monday, it’s opening day and I’ve got Mets tickets. You guys wanna go?”
“I can’t take the day off,” says Ripley.
“Me neither,” says Sam. “Not all of us get long weekends on a whim.”
“Hey, we’ve been working our asses off,” I say.
“Yeah, flying on a private jet and changing outfits is tough,” says Ripley. “Cue the violins.”
“Hey, you don’t see all the behind-the-scenes stuff.” I say, then turn to my escort. “Looks like you and me
, Tyler. Play ball.”
***
We make our way in the bright sunshine down the aisle toward the dugout. It’s a perfect day for a baseball game as spring is definitely in full bloom, about seventy degrees with a light breeze. I’ve got my hair up under a baseball hat along with sunglasses which will hopefully let me go unrecognized. Bottom line, I’m a jeans and sweatshirt kind of girl, and it’s nice to put the Jackie Kennedy thing aside for a day.
We continue as the usher leads us farther down and I realize we’ve got really terrific seats. “Geez, Tyler, how’d you get such great seats for opening day?”
“Friends in high places,” he says with a smile, as we arrive at our seats in the first row next to the dugout.
“Wow, I’ve never sat so close before. Beats the hell out of the press box.”
“You want anything? These seats actually come with a waiter.”
“You mean if I want a hot dog you’re not gonna go get it for me?”
“Nope. I figured with your appetite I’d miss the whole game.”
“Okay, very funny. I’ll wait till the game starts before I begin my feeding frenzy.”
I glance out at the beautifully manicured field as the Mets take batting practice and run in the outfield. They finish up and head for the dugout.
One of their star players I instantly recognize looks directly at Tyler and smiles, then jogs toward us and stops in front of the rail, extending his hand. “Hey, Tyler, glad you could get away from the campaign.”
Tyler shakes his hand. “How could I miss opening day with you pitching?”
“You two know each other?” I ask.
The player smiles, turns around and points to the name on the back of his uniform.
Garrity.
“Meet my brother Sean,” says Tyler. “Sean, this is—”
“Twitter Girl, yeah, I know. Hi, Cassidy.”
“Hi.” I turn to Tyler. “You didn’t tell me your brother played for the Mets.”
“You didn’t ask.”
“He keeps me under wraps because I’m the underachiever in the family,” says his brother, a strapping athlete with eyes that match Tyler’s. Sean Garrity is baseball’s version of Tim Tebow, a squeaky clean guy. “He got the brains, I got the curve ball.”
