She pushed back the visor and kissed the crown of his head, breathing his scent in deep before she pulled out her cell, punching Jake's number. When it went to voicemail, she dialed Raven.
She held the phone to her ear as Raven's mousy voice flowed from the earpiece. "No, Raven. Everything is not okay. I need to talk to Jake. NOW."
Chapter Ten
Jake
Jake gave Marta Quixley, a spunky lobbyist for a national LGBT rights group, his full attention.
Her fluorescent baby blue eyes flashed as she pulled out a manila folder. "Have you heard about Jeremiah Banks' hate group? The SOB has started harassing co-eds, Jake. Kids that are already struggling with their identity and finding their place in the world. Something has to be done!"
Jake massaged the bridge of nose. As much as Jake wanted to push for legislation that would bar Jeremiah’s group from spreading their message of hate, their group had recently made waves by crying foul all the way to the Supreme Court. The court had ruled in their favor. The group was emboldened by the verdict and turned their disgusting campaign up fifty notches, now protesting and spreading vitriol on and offline.
“Marcy,” Jake said with a sigh. “You know I want to help in any way I can-”
“I don’t mean to be blunt, Senator, but I do want to remind you that you ran on an equality for all platform.” Marcy barely stood at 5’5, but her voice was authoritative and commanding. She was someone that fought tooth and nail and didn’t take anything lying down.
Normally, Jake would fire back something witty. That’s how their relationship went—they busted each other’s balls, each keeping the other on their A game. But Jake’s mind was a million miles away. His mind was on Saturday, and the opportunity to see Keisha and talk about his father’s latest stunt, face to face.
It had taken everything in Jake, every ounce of self-control to not fly off the rail and march down to his father’s property and beat the shit out of him. He’d tried to pay her off? He didn’t know if he was more offended that he thought Keisha was the kind of woman that could be bought off or that he thought their love was so meaningless that she’d accept.
Keisha had calmed him, telling him that they were gonna figure it all out and approach it with cool heads, as adults. That something had to be done, but it couldn’t involve violence. She didn’t seem to understand that as far as his father was concerned, violence was the only language he was fluent in.
He still bore the scars of a childhood lived in fear, he and his mother both tiptoeing around him, afraid the smallest action would awaken his fury. The few times he got her to actually talk about his childhood and his father’s heavy hand, Barbara would shrug it off as discipline. ‘He only raised his hand to keep you in line’, she’d insist before steering the conversation to more pleasant territory.
Conrad was someone that ruled with fear and intimidation. It’s how he built his financial empire and how he kept Jake and his mother submissive and docile. Hell, his strong arming was why Jake studied politics instead of any other subject.
But the one area that he could not, would not allow his father to dominate was his love life. He refused to let him bully Keisha or destroy what they were desperately trying to build against all odds. Jake would-
“Jake?” Jake blinked rapidly through the red, refocusing. Marcy was staring at him gingerly, her hawkish features softening. “Are you alright?”
“Yeah. Of course.”
She raised an eyebrow. “You don’t look alright to me.” She closed her manila folder. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Jake snorted. “I’m sure you have better things to do than listen to me complain, Marcy.”
“Well of course I do,” she quipped. “Marches to plan, bras to burn, other reps to bug, hate mongers to topple.” She slid to the edge of her seat. “But you’ve kinda grown on me.” She chuckled. “Like a fungus.”
Jake felt his mouth twitch. He had to agree. She was definitely his favorite lobbyist, the one he looked forward to when it was jotted on his calendar. They confided in one another. “I’m just having issues with my father.”
She let out a sigh. “Don’t we all.” She scratched her chin. “Is this about his impromptu, ‘My son is not having sexual relations with that woman’ on network news a couple of weeks ago?”
“That’s just the tip of the iceberg,” Jake said, shaking his head. “Apparently he’s gone past the denial stage in the grieving process straight to bribery.”
Marcy shook her head. “You know I’ve been working on the Hill too long when I’m not even surprised. Rich folks behaving badly is kind of business as usual.” She scanned his face. “So what now? He’s pulling out all the stops to put an end to you and…”
“Keisha,” Jake answered. He ran a hand through his wavy hair. “She wants to have them over for dinner this weekend and lay it all out. We’re together, accept it, or get the hell out of the way.”
“And I’m guessing you’re having French onion with a side of-”
“Arsenic?”
Marcy laughed. “I was gonna say Dexalax. I mean, a night spent up close and personal with the porcelain throne is enough to give the mightiest man a whole new perspective on life.”
As tempting as spiking his father’s food was, at the end of the day, it failed to address the root of the problem. His father obviously didn’t take them very seriously, and Jake wondered if dinner would even dent anything.
"So it's pretty serious between the two of you, eh?" Marcy asked with a grin.
Pretty serious didn't even begin to brush the surface. It was hard to believe there had ever been anyone before her, any feeling before this.
His day to day life was filled with agendas and meetings where he talked about making choices for everyday Americans, looking out for the average family. Even with Trixie, and all the love he'd held for her son, a part of him always had pause about the life they would lead. And even before that, he'd been a playboy, never letting anyone get close enough to hurt him when things inevitably ended.
But with Keisha, everything seemed to click. Colors seemed brighter. Food tasted better. Moments were so much sweeter, especially since they only had so little time together. He saw Caleb's face in the kids he held for photo opportunities. Home, happiness, love--words he'd always thought were beyond him. Things he'd thought he'd have to settle for, marrying a pre-approved Stepford wife like his father. But with Keisha, everything was possible.
Marcy nodded slightly. "I think you just answered my question." She sighed, closing her eyes. "Oh to be young and in love." One of her eyes popped open. "And to have that love held at the same esteem as countless heterosexual couples."
Had to love her persistence. "I will bring up the issue at our media and ethics committee meeting next week."
Marcy went back to business as usual, pulling out a small binder of information and plopping it on his desk. "You'll find several petitions our group has gathered, urging Facebook and others to take more decisive action against abuse of their technologies." She gathered her things and slid from her chair. "I know you’ve got a busy day, so I’ll be on my way. Good luck with dinner, Senator."
Jake shook her outstretched hand. He still had another day on the hill, another day to collect himself before he saw his parents. But deep down, he knew that he'd never have enough time to prepare for the showdown. It was just a matter of minimizing collateral damage, and remembering that at the end of it all, they would leave, and he'd still have Keisha.
Chapter Eleven
Keisha
Maria bounced Caleb on her hip, repeating her disapproval for the fifth time that night. "Am I the only one that thinks this is crazy?"
To be honest, no, she wasn't. Keisha had carried her frustration for the past few days, trying to channel it into unpacking boxes and preparing their new home. The first floor was almost completely finished-she and Maria had painted the living room a deep mahogany, contrasting with the tan sofa and glass coffee tables, and
put up muted art that decorated the room and really brought it all together. The kitchen had been easy, just adding a statement piece here and there, a pop of color, a vase of fresh flowers.
And as far as dinner, everything was damn near perfect. She'd managed to not overcook the rotisserie chicken, the mashed potatoes smelled divine, the green beans were blanching and the apple pie she'd made from scratch was cooling.
She'd put on her war paint, wearing makeup that she only put on for special occasions, and even donned a 50's style dress that she'd found thrifting. The cream color was conservative, yet accentuated her dark skin.
But when she stood still, and thought about the fact that she was letting a man who'd insulted her countless times and tried to derail her relationship, and his wife with her cold, condescending smile, she couldn’t stop the combination of anger and nerves that made her body shake.
She turned to the marble counter and clutched it. "It's gonna be fine, Maria. It’s gonna be fine."
Maria clucked her tongue. "Having company over should be an exciting time, mija.”
"It is exciting."
Maria shot her a look. "Is that why Jake hasn't been seen all day? Why you've broken four plates today? Why you've got that painful smile on your face?"
Keisha licked her lips, the sides of her mouth aching. It was painful--and all she could do to not lose her shit. But they needed a cease fire. A truce. They had to come to some sort of middle ground because she and Caleb were a part of Jake's life now, but so were his parents. They had to find a way to coexist.
Almost on cue, the doorbell dinged...and Keisha lost it. Her heart raced, running a million miles a minute as her chest heaved up and down. Her hands felt clammy, sticking to the apron as she wiped them on the starch fabric, trying to steel herself. It wasn't working because she started shaking. What the hell had she been thinking? She couldn't do this. She couldn't face them.
"Why did I invite them?" Keisha wailed. "They hate me, they hate my son and-"
Maria took a step forward, her voice firm. "Esta bien." She took her free hand and placed it on Keisha's shoulder, steadying her. "You're a good woman, and a good mother. No matter what those rich pricks say, you're not lucky to have them—they’re lucky to have you."
"But-"
"No buts," Maria cut in. "You can do this." She gave her a mischievous smile. "And you'll thank me for this later, but I'm gonna go grab that door."
Keisha's dark eyes went wide with horror. "N-No I’m not ready. I’m not-"
But she was gone, sauntering to the foyer. Keisha had no choice but to get it together. She put on her game face, putting everything else on the back burner. She couldn't let them see weakness or they'd eat her alive.
The door swung open and Barbara breezed in. She was decked out in a crisp white shirt, blazer and jeans. Her gray hair fell in soft waves around her pensive face. She slapped on a smile as fake as Keisha's.
"Keisha, dear!" she gushed. "This place is simply beautiful." She pivoted toward Maria. "If you could assist my husband? He brought a couple of gifts for everyone."
Keisha had to stifle the laughter that rose in her throat, but Maria didn't hold back.
"Your husband can get his own damn bags." Maria looped the diaper bag over her shoulder and cast a final look over her shoulder. "Me and Caleb will be back later."
Barbara just stood in the doorway, confounded. She cradled a bottle of wine in her arms, watching Maria march past before turning her attention back to Keisha.
"That was my friend," Keisha said quietly. She bridged the gap between them, extending her hand for the wine. "She's watching Caleb for a little bit so we can all talk."
The older woman's high cheekbones flushed as she let out a giggle. "My mistake." She was quick to forget the offense, pushing past Keisha into the living room. She oohhed and aahhed, but Keisha knew in the back of her mind she thought she was slumming it.
"This place is, uh, really quaint!" she said cheerfully, panning in slow motion.
Keisha couldn't help but put her on blast a little, considering the drama she and her husband had dished out. "Oh? What do you like best?"
Barbara fidgeted, her hands toying with her pearl necklace. After a moment she cleared her throat, gesturing at the sectional. "That's a really pretty brown, uh, tan, cream color."
"Thank you." Keisha gave her a curious look as the woman began to hop from foot to foot, unable to stay still or meet Keisha's gaze. If Keisha didn’t know any better, she’d think Barbara was nervous. “Everything okay?”
“Y-yes,” Barbara said quickly, rubbing her hands together. She was still doing the rocking thing and it was looking more and more like the pee pee dance as time passed. Where was the icy, calm, and collected woman she’d met in Winterhorn a month ago?
When she took a step toward Jake’s mother, she turned several shades grayer. Keisha shook her head slowly, bristling at the woman’s reaction. “I’m not gonna knock you out, Barbara.”
The woman let out a gasp of relief. When she took in Keisha’s insulted glance, she pressed on. “I mean, I know you’re not gonna hurt me thought I would understand if you wanted to do me harm after what Conrad-”
The clap of the front door slamming shut cut into her explanation and a flare of anger rippled across Keisha. As hurtful as Barbara’s reception had been when they met, it paled in comparison to Conrad’s tireless efforts to put her relationship six feet under.
The man was dressed in a stormy gray shirt and olive slacks but with the look of consternation he might as well have been wearing camo. He unloaded his packages onto the dining room table unceremoniously and it solicited a desire to chunk a plate or two at his head. Maybe Barbara had a reason to be worried.
Barbara was the first to move, quickly trying to diffuse the ticking bomb as Keisha and Conrad squared off, each daring the other to make the first move. She pushed a silver tendril from her eyes as she sprung to gather the packages and straighten the placement and centerpiece Conrad upended.
“C-Connie! I was just telling Keisha how excited we were about dinner.” She fluffed a bow on one of the package. “And how we appreciate her reaching out so we can all find middle ground.”
Keisha expected him to say something, anything to make up for what he’d done, but he just stood there, infuriatingly stoic. She had to get out of there, take a breath. And besides, where was Jake? Fifteen minutes ago he’d claimed he was wrapping up an email. “I’m just gonna head upstairs and-”
Barbara whirled around, clapping her hands together. “Jake!”
For a moment, everything else faded to black when Keisha saw him. He was wearing the cerulean shirt she loved that made his deep eyes hypnotizing. But it was the hint of a smile that gave her strength. The curled lip that told her this was definitely crazy. And when he joined her side and placed a strong hand on the small of her back, it told her that thick or thin, even if this dinner became a self-fulfilling prophecy and ended disastrously, they’d weather it together.
She caressed his cheek and brought her lips to his, planting a kiss and drinking him in. When she took a step back, he pulled her back in with an aggressiveness that took her breath away and made her yearn for him. After another brush of the lips that left her body tingling, Conrad cleared his throat.
“We certainly didn’t come here to watch you two claw at each other like horny teenagers,” he grumbled.
His icy tone shook Keisha from her stupor. She bit back her retort and instead extricated herself. She flashed the sweetest smile she could manage. “I’m gonna check on the chicken.”
“No.” His voice was a whip, planting Keisha in place.
“Honey,” Barbara squeaked. “You said you’d try-“
He shook his head, all the poise and dignity melting away. He had the same eyes as her Jake, the same aristocratic nose. But where she saw only love in Jake’s opals, there was contempt in Conrad’s. Where she felt the curve of Jake’s nose as he nuzzled her, she saw only arrogance. She’d bee
n nothing but respectable to the man and he treated her like gum on the bottom of his overpriced loafers.
“How dare you,” Keisha hissed, no longer able to hold her peace. “I invite you here, try to extend an olive branch, and you have the nerve to order me around?”
Barbara pushed forward. “Keisha, he didn’t mean-”
“Oh I can assure you,” Conrad snarled, “I meant what I said. I’m not gonna sit here and eat at this table and pretend this union is anything but a joke.” He turned his vitriol to Jake. “You’ve done some stupid things, but you have truly outdone yourself now. I will not allow you to destroy this family’s name for a warm hole.”
Tears of fury burned Keisha’s eyes as she clenched and unclenched her fists. She’d never wanted to hit someone, hurt them so bad. And he was ripe for the taking. Barbara had even shuffled to the side, moving out of the line of fire.
Keisha took a step forward, her hand shaking, every bone preparing. Waiting. She looked into his hardened face, his perfectly disgusted scowl. She saw Holden, when she told him she was keeping the baby. She saw her mother, telling her that a baby would ruin her life. She saw Carmen, bemused when Keisha told her she was working to get her degree. In his lines of anger, judgment, she saw every person that tried to keep her down and tried to control her. If she hit him, he would win. She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. It would hurt more than any insult he could hurl her way.
She breathed in deep and when she exhaled, she squared her shoulders. “Get the hell out of my house.”
The surprise on his face was delicious. He quickly gathered himself, turning to Jake. “Are you gonna let her talk to me like that?”
Keisha gripped his hand. She had to woosah through it, but Jake was a hot head. The last thing she wanted, or his campaign needed, was Jake getting arrested for aggravated assault.
But instead of knocking him out, Jake calmly stood his ground. “You heard what she said. You’re no longer welcome here.”
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