“Was the relationship romantic in nature?” he asked.
“Robin was my roommate in college,” she said. She seemed very confident and self-possessed, not at all a tool of one of Robin’s opponents wanting fifteen minutes of fame. She was clearly not like the picture Robin had tried to paint of her. “We lived together for a year.”
“Did you have an affair?” Savage pressed.
“No,” Adrienne said. “We were friends, nothing more.”
“What about the rumors that—”
“I was joking in a bar, and a reporter misconstrued what I’d said.” Adrienne was unflappable, even believable.
Robin’s heart was pounding so hard, she had to consciously remember to breathe. She wasn’t going to betray her. If anything, she was helping her? Robin’s mind raced to the three words Adrienne had said to her. Now more than ever, it seemed to be true.
Tom poked his head in, then made a beeline for the wet bar. “The woman can keep a secret,” he said knowingly. The room was too dimly lit for her to see if there was pain in his eyes. If there was, she couldn’t bear to see it. The idea that she could have spared her family any knowledge of her affair…somehow, clearing her conscience did not make Robin feel better. If anything, it probably raised more questions for Tom.
“Yes.” She turned back to the screen, waiting for him to leave.
When the interview was over, another news show came on, showing the current poll numbers. Robin remained in the lead, and support for her was only growing now that this “wrinkle” had been ironed out satisfactorily.
She ignored the call from her press secretary. She didn’t want to discuss positioning and preparing for the final debate at this time. She needed to be alone. But she had to take the call from her father.
“Good news,” Jimmy exclaimed into the phone.
“Yes, Daddy. I know.”
“I told you, when you’ve got the truth on your side, the Lord will protect you.”
“Yes.” She listened as he did most of the talking. Though her mind drifted off at one point, she understood that he now apparently could return to his gun club without being asked a lot of questions. “I’m happy to hear that.”
When the call was over, she slumped into the creaky, leather high back chair and pondered the situation. Everything was looking good for her campaign now. She was back on track to the most powerful position in the country. This was good news. So why did she feel so heavyhearted? She sat, unable to move, except to cut off the TV. All she could do was stare into the flames in the fireplace, envisioning the time when her life had fewer complications. At the family farm, her biggest worry was how to make an excuse so she wouldn’t have to milk the cows. The sweet smells of magnolia and honeysuckle…when she could excitedly put on her first pair of shorts for the summer once the mild, warm breezes began to blow in…those were now times she longed for.
Tonight she seemed like a stranger, even to herself. No matter how many speeches she gave about the unnaturalness of these feelings, behind blue eyes now marked with crow’s-feet, she still carried with her the eighteen-year-old girl who longed for something she didn’t want to tell anyone. Adrienne Austen was the tumultuous storm that rained on her life and ruined her peace of mind. And every time she resurfaced, Robin, like a flimsy piece of patio furniture in a hurricane, was twirled around and dumped in some strange place with no idea how to get back to what was familiar.
The governor was slowly beginning to see that she wasn’t supposed to be the same as she was before she went off to college, that change was something to count on, to hope for, no matter how scary. Though Adrienne and her music seemed dark and dangerous, it was only because Robin feared walking through the door to a life that she’d heard was wrong and evil ever since she was a child. If only Robin could have opened the door, reached out for what she really wanted, maybe her life would have been different. If only. But she didn’t. So now she found herself in a hollow, echoing mansion with the world safely tucked away outside, and admirers who only admired her for what they thought they knew about her. It was lonelier and scarier than any place Adrienne could have left her.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
“She was called Bloody Mary for all the executions she ordered, obliterating everyone who stood in her path.” I was reading my history book, but was too distracted by Adrienne’s phone conversation with Sean. Her flirtations, her giddy laughter, twisted the knife in my stomach deeper.
I cast a fierce eye in her direction, repulsed by the jealous anger welling up inside of me. I never wanted to become one of those girls who spent all of their time lamenting over some object of affection. I’d thought of my life as too big and important to waste time on such things. That’s why I ignored the girls in high school who spent half their days in the bathroom, crying over boys. Who called, who didn’t call, who looked at another girl a certain way…it seemed like such a waste of time. But now here I was, reduced to shards of self-pity, catching fire again and again with each word my roommate spoke. I’d become one of those girls.
“What about tomorrow night? I really wanna see you.” Her laugh broke my heart again. When she finally hung up, she opened a textbook and sat at her desk. Waves of silent tension rippled through the room. “You know,” Adrienne said, removing her reading glasses. “You should give Boyd a call. It seemed like you guys really hit it off.”
That was the final straw. “Oh, I am.” Two could play this game.
“So,” she said. “I guess he wasn’t the bad guy you thought?”
I didn’t understand what she meant.
She smiled. “How you probably judged him ’cause he’s a friend of Sean’s?”
“Yeah,” I replied distractedly.
* * *
Two girls, a blonde and a brunette, ran through the woods near the campus. I yelled, “Cut!” Unscrewing the tripod, I felt the choking heat melting my face, as well as my sanity. As the two girls approached, I wiped my forehead. “That’s it for today. We’ll meet back here tomorrow. Same time.”
As the girls walked away, Carol hovered over me. “Acting majors,” she muttered, adding mockingly, “‘What’s my motivation?’”
I managed a weak smile, but was obviously upset about more than the amateur production. Though it was clear I wasn’t a master of technical skills, I couldn’t make myself care more about this project, what with my world coming to an end and all.
“You ever gonna tell me what happened?” Carol persisted.
I continued twisting the base of the tripod. “It’s a real mess,” I said.
“Hey, kiddo, it’s me here.”
“We slept together.”
Carol’s eyes bulged out of her head. “Wow! Well, I guess now you know how she really feels.”
“Not exactly. We were drinking, and the next day she acted like it was a mistake.”
“Oh, I hate that!” Carol exclaimed. “Using alcohol as an excuse. That’s crap. Lots of straight girls get fucked up and they don’t even kiss another girl. Trust me on that.” She was so loud, I’m sure the people across the parking lot now knew the sordid details of my sex life.
“So you think she’s lying? About it not meaning anything?”
“Who the fuck knows? You’ve got two possibilities. She was either really into it, but got scared the next day. Or she really is straight and really got drunk.”
“Why can’t my life just be normal?”
“I’d say it’s pretty interesting.”
We walked across deep green grass. I tried not to think about the swarms of red ants eager to spread up my ankles. I walked faster at the thought. I’d heard about the lethal wildlife down here, just waiting to kill you every time you went outside. “You better not say a word to anyone,” I warned.
“Who am I gonna tell?” Carol tried to look innocent.
I stopped. “The thing is, I’m acting like such a…such an asshole now. I was trying to make her jealous with this guy—”
“That’s what I’
d do.”
“You would?”
“Hell, yeah. If you really want to find out how she feels.” Carol was such an eager spectator; all she needed was a bag of popcorn.
“Isn’t this nuts?”
“Don’t sweat it. You haven’t done anything wrong. Just don’t sleep with him unless it’s for the right reasons.”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
On board the private jet, Peter helped himself to a vodka tonic, while he reclined in one of the leather swivel chairs. This was the good life that he could certainly get used to.
“Governor Sanders,” he began in that annoying tone she knew meant he was trying to be delicate. After so many years together, they were somewhat like a married couple, able to decipher each other’s tone of voice.
She ignored him, distractedly staring out the window when there was nothing to see. Her eyes were tired. She sat tensely in her perfectly matching blue suit with pearl earrings.
“Excuse me?” Peter persisted.
Robin was immersed in the clouds. They stretched for eternity, unaware of time or the insignificant lives and laws of human beings. She envied them for just being, not able to be pushed or pulled to suit anyone’s demands. Maybe she was just craving the freedom she knew she couldn’t have.
“Why did you want to come here?”
She smiled peculiarly at his question. “Unfinished business.”
The jet banked to one side as the lights of Boston twinkled below.
“Must be important business,” he said coyly. “And so you know, all instructions were carried out.”
She nodded. “Good.”
An intern seated between Jeannette, the speechwriter, and Lara, nervously arranged her iPad and notebook on her lap.
“What’re you doing?” Lara asked.
“Taking notes.”
“There isn’t time. You should be paying attention, not taking notes.” Lara was especially hard on new people. She was so impatient, she was probably the worst person to train anyone.
Peter chuckled to himself. “It’s been a long time since we employed Zelda.”
“Zelda?” The intern repeated.
“She’s our decoy,” Lara explained.
Zelda was the code name for a woman who, with the right wig and dressed in a suit and scarf, could be a dead ringer for Governor Sanders. That afternoon, “Zelda” had conspicuously paraded out of the capitol, surrounded by security, got into the governor’s limousine and traveled to the mansion.
“We use her to throw off the press when we need to keep the governor’s whereabouts secret,” Lara told the wide-eyed young woman. As she started to write “Zelda” in her notebook, Lara slapped her hand. “No notes. Doesn’t your generation know how to listen anymore?”
“Zelda,” the intern repeated softly to herself. “That’s interesting.” She seemed excited to know this inside information.
“Not really,” Lara said. “The woman’s an alcoholic. We really need a new Zelda.”
“No, she isn’t,” Peter argued. “She has a slight balance problem when she walks. Could be an inner ear thing.”
Lara laughed. “Right.”
“Lara,” Robin scolded, her eyes darting to the intern. “We don’t need to talk about her.”
“Oh, c’mon,” Lara said. “We’re not the CIA.”
Robin glared at her, then motioned to her to join her at the back.
“I didn’t want you to bring any interns along!”
“More secrets with you! What kind of business are we doing?” Lara dramatically raised an eyebrow. “You’re not taking anybody out, are you?”
Robin patted her shoulder. She liked her acid-tongued, fiery friend.
“Want to tell me why we’re in your dad’s plane?” Lara asked.
“I want to keep this little ‘mission’ under wraps.” Robin returned to her seat.
Lara followed, now more curious than ever, although she had a pretty good guess. The governor’s staff was getting used to being kept deliberately out of the loop lately, although they were still complaining about it to each other.
Robin buckled herself in, trying to regain a sense of peace in the clouds. She wanted to pretend she wasn’t surrounded by this traveling circus she called a staff.
There was a call from Tom. As soon as she saw his face on her phone, she took a deep breath.
“Yes?” She turned toward the window.
“Hi.” His voice was very reserved and quiet.
“Is everything all right?”
“Where are you?” He seemed agitated.
“I’m taking care of something.” She nodded at Peter.
“Unfinished business,” Tom suggested. He let out a labored sigh. “I have to tell you, Robin. I’m not sure I can do this.”
“Do what?” she asked carefully.
“Keep playing the doting husband. I’ve been thinking about what’s good for me, something I don’t think I’m doing enough.” This didn’t sound like him at all.
Robin had taken for granted the idea of Tom still by her side. Especially with Graham Goodwin’s camp gaining on her, she knew his presence was vital to her campaign. “Have you been talking to your lawyer friend?” Of course she meant Darlene.
“No,” he answered firmly. “I’ve supported you with everything. But you can’t even tell me where you are tonight! It’s like I’m living with…with…”
“I’m doing what I have to do. You’ll have to trust me.”
There was a bitter chuckle on the other end. “Trust you,” he repeated. “I have to ask you straight out. Is the affair over? With that woman?”
“Of course! I told you.” There was a long silence. Robin was distracted by a shape she thought she saw in the clouds, the silhouette of a woman.
“When you said I deserve more,” he continued, “that was the worst thing you could have said, especially if you wanted me to stay.”
“You want me to force you? Threaten you?”
Peter and Lara exchanged glances.
“Of course not,” Tom replied. “But you never say anything that makes me want to stay.”
“I can’t talk about this now.” Robin lowered her voice.
“Of course you can’t.”
“Really,” she said almost in a whisper.
Her staff pretended they weren’t listening to every word, as she hung up. Jeannette’s eyes were wide, shifting to the others on the plane. But nobody looked up.
Robin glanced out the window and searched the clouds again for the shape she thought she had seen. But it was gone.
Chapter Forty
I flopped on Carol’s futon to discuss my warped plan. I couldn’t bring myself to return to the claustrophobic dorm room right away. And even though Carol’s place smelled like strong clove cigarettes, I could breathe easier here.
“You want to go out with him to make her jealous,” Carol said. “I got it.”
“Isn’t it mean, though? Leading him on?”
“Jesus, girl. You got way too much of a conscience. How much do you read that Bible?”
I rolled my eyes. I hated it when people made a joke out of my faith. There was nothing wrong with believing in God and trying to live a good life. Nothing at all. The question was, could it be that what I’d done with Adrienne was against God’s plan? Or could we actually make sense together? In the bigger scheme of things, was it really okay, in spite of what Reverend Butler used to say? Maybe Reverend Butler was an idiot.
I made a quick stop in Carol’s bathroom before returning to “the pit of hell,” as I started calling it. When I washed my hands, I couldn’t help but notice endless rows of pills in the cabinet left open above the sink. How much medication did she take?
I came out, not realizing how much I was fidgeting. I felt guilty for being so self-absorbed. “I’m sorry to go on about myself all the time,” I said. “What about you? Are you okay?”
Carol was the most perceptive, intelligent person I’d ever met. She knew in an instant that
I’d seen her meds. “I have to take a lot of stuff. My head’s a little screwed up.”
“Screwed up?”
“Yeah,” she answered. “You ever wake up in class, not remembering how you got there or what clothes you put on?”
I slowly shook my head. She was scaring me.
“Try it sometime,” she joked. “It’s a lot of fun.”
“So you mean…”
“I get blackouts. They told me it was schizoaffective disorder. That’s why it’s taking me a little while to graduate.” For the first time she seemed insecure, unable to look me in the eye. “Bipolar, mood swings, you name it. The trouble is, the side effects of the meds are worse than the condition!”
That explained why Carol failed so many tests. She seemed too smart to make such low grades. But now it made sense.
I reached out to her, to give her a hug. “I didn’t know.”
She pulled back fast. “Hey, no pity party. I’m fine.” She paused a moment. “But there is something you can do. You could tell your dad to quit cutting the budget for people like me.” Then she muttered, “Thank God I don’t live in Georgia.”
“What do you mean?”
She smiled ironically. “You really don’t know, do you? When I wasn’t at school, I had an apartment, thanks to HUD. Guys like your dad believe people like me choose to be on disability.”
“That’s not true.”
“If it were up to him, I’d be homeless and couldn’t afford my fuckin’ meds!” She was so angry she was biting her lower lip. “Hell, I wouldn’t even be able to go to school!”
“But Democrats always want to raise taxes,” I argued, remembering what my dad had said. “How can that be good for you if you’re struggling as it is?” I knew that Carol was pretty much on her own. Her father had died, and she didn’t see her mother in New York very much. She seemed like such a lost soul.
She laughed bitterly. “You’ve been brainwashed by Republicans.”
“Don’t do that. We’re all people.”
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