by Krista McGee
“Hey, you did that on purpose,” Anna Grace yelled across the fairway.
Jessica walked toward Anna Grace, her finger wagging in the air. “Girl, if I wanted to hit you, I wouldn’t use a golf ball. It was just a bad hit. Don’t worry. It won’t happen again.”
“You better watch it.” Anna Grace’s voice got louder. She walked closer to Jessica, then saw the camera crew coming over the hill. “Well, girls.” Anna Grace smiled, suddenly the nicest young lady in all of the South. “It was great talking with y’all, but I need to get to work. I’m not too good at this, you know. Toodle-oo.” She waved, glanced up at the cameras to make sure they caught how wonderfully friendly and humble she was, then picked up her bag and walked toward the crew, chest out, smile on.
Addy rolled her eyes.
“Cameras, Addy, cameras,” Kara reminded, her own smile in place. “Hank’s already looking for ways to make you look bad. Let’s not give them to him.”
By the tenth hole, Kara was wiped out. “Who knew golf could be so exhausting?”
“Yes, well, having to hit the ball twenty times for each hole can wear a person out.”
“Are you mocking me?” Kara said. “Just because you get your turkeys and Humphrey Bogarts doesn’t mean you can laugh at my score. If this were bowling, I would be killing you, young lady. Killing you.”
“Birdies and bogies, Kara.” Addy shook her head at her friend’s failing attempts to remember her golf lessons from the day before. “And I’m not getting bogies. Birdies, yes. And eagles.”
“Well, I think I am doing so horribly that I deserve to make up my own lingo.” Kara leaned against her club. “Twenty over par is now officially a turkey. Hitting the ball in the water at least five times is an alligator.” Kara winked at Addy. “That one is for you, my Florida friend.”
“Golf According to Kara.” Addy laughed. “You should write a book.”
“Maybe I will. In fact, I think I’m going to start on it right now, while it’s all fresh in my head. Think you could finish the game without me?”
“I suppose I could manage,” Addy said, glad for the opportunity to move quickly through the final holes.
“Don’t look so eager. You’re hurting my feelings.” Kara shouldered her bag and started walking back toward the waiting vans. “See you back at the trailer.”
Addy looked around. No cameras, no girls, no one. She breathed a sigh. As much as she loved Kara, talking all day every day was exhausting. Addy looked forward to some silence. She was tempted to go back a few holes so the end wouldn’t come so soon. She glanced at the sky. Not much daylight left. She only had time to finish the course. That must be why all the cameramen were packing up for the day.
“Hi there, Addy.”
Addy knew that voice. Her toes started tingling before she even turned around.
“Jonathon.” Anna Grace’s face suddenly came to mind, her critique of Addy’s outfit replaying in her head. What must she look like—sweaty, hair coming out of her ponytail, grass stains from digging around trying to find Kara’s stray golf balls?
“Addy?”
Addy realized this wasn’t the first time he had said that. “Sorry. I was just . . .”
“Thinking?” Jonathon finished.
“Yes.” Addy looked down, stomping the grass with her foot.
“You do a lot of that.”
“What?”
“Think.”
“Oh yes, I guess I do. I come from a small, quiet family. Lots of time to think. I guess I’m not quite used to all this.”
“Must be nice.”
“What?”
“Having quiet. I wouldn’t know what that was like.”
“No, I guess not.” Addy looked for a way to try to make a fresh start with Jonathon. “Tell you what. I was looking forward to finishing the course in silence. Want to join me?”
“No talking?” he asked, eyebrows raised.
“Absolutely none.”
“Really?” He sounded like a kid sitting on Santa’s lap.
“Just the sounds of the clubs swinging and golf balls flying. And birds. And the wind in the trees. You’ll be amazed at the things you hear when you don’t talk.”
“Deal.” Jonathon motioned—quietly—for Addy to begin.
She wasn’t surprised to discover that Jonathon was significantly better than she but was relieved to stay within a few strokes of his score. After three holes, though, he started laughing.
“I’ve had enough silence. Could you really have stayed quiet the whole time?”
“Sure.” Addy shrugged.
“I can’t do it. Even when I’m playing by myself, I listen to my iPod or talk on my phone between holes.”
“Are you ever by yourself much?” Addy noted that in just the last ten minutes, he had received and responded to dozens of text messages.
Jonathon completed yet another text. “Those are mostly from friends. They want to know what I’m doing and with whom—you know, typical guy stuff.” Looking down at an incoming text, he grinned. “This one’s from my mom. She wants to make sure I finished my research paper for English class.” His thumbs flew over the tiny keyboard as he mouthed, “Yes, Mom,” then flipped the phone shut and returned it to his back pocket.
“What’s your mom like?” Addy was curious to know more about the First Lady.
Having worked as an interior designer before her husband began his political career, Mrs. Jackson had completely redone many of the rooms in the White House when the First Family moved in. She allowed a camera crew to tape the whole thing, turning it into a popular prime-time documentary three years before. Mrs. Jackson’s tasteful updating had been impressive, earning her rave reviews from the public and from other professionals. Her designs were so popular, home decor and furniture stores across the country had doubled their business the following year, selling out of fabrics and decorative items that mirrored those in the White House. And like her husband and son, Mrs. Jackson was quite comfortable in front of the cameras, leaving viewers feeling more like neighbors than the American public listening to its First Lady.
“Did you watch the special about her remodel a couple years back?” Jonathon asked, leaving Addy wondering if he could read her mind.
“I did. She did a great job.”
“Well, that’s my mom. She wasn’t acting for the cameras; she really is that outgoing and energetic. Sometimes too energetic.” He laughed, shaking his head.
“What do you mean?”
“My mom can do a hundred things all at the same time, so she thinks my sister and I can too,” Jonathon said. “And really, Alexandra is a lot like Mom, so she doesn’t have trouble keeping up. But not me. I can’t go like that.”
“Not a multitasker?” Addy asked.
“Not at all. I’m more like my dad—slow and steady.”
Addy found it hard to comprehend that she was hearing about the First Family. She listened as Jonathon told stories about growing up in Washington, DC. His father had been elected to his first term as a senator from Indiana when Jonathon was just three years old, so most of his memories revolved around famous leaders and celebrities. While Addy was home studying her times tables, Jonathon had been dining with speakers of the house and secretaries of state.
“A couple years ago, I got to go to Japan with my dad.”
“Wow,” Addy exclaimed.
“It was amazing. We met with the prime minister and several other leaders of the country. They treated us so well. Americans can learn a lot from the hospitality of the Japanese.” Jonathon grunted.
“Have you gone places where people were rude to your father?”
“Yes, Vermont.”
Addy laughed. “Really?”
“They hate Dad.”
“Isn’t that hard on you?”
“Sure it is.” Jonathon shouldered his golf bag. “But it’s part of the job. We all do what we can to help make him look good. Sometimes that’s easier to do than others.”
He looked at Addy in a way that made her almost forget how to hold her golf club.
Addy cleared her throat. “You have an exciting life.”
“I guess. It has its drawbacks, though.” Jonathon pointed behind him to the four Secret Service agents who always stayed within a hundred feet of the couple. “They go everywhere. And I mean everywhere. I’d trade trips to Asia for some extra privacy any day.”
She could tell it was Jonathon’s turn to think, so they played out the rest of the course in relative silence.
As they finished out the eighteenth hole, Addy found herself sad to see the afternoon end. They put away their clubs and walked back to the vans, then Jonathon turned to face her.
“Thanks, Addy.”
She suddenly felt very warm, despite the slight chill in the March air.
“This was great. Maybe we can do it again sometime?” He paused, looking uncomfortable and nervous—the same look he’d had when she saw him in the forest. But this time, Addy knew it was genuine. No pretenses. He felt awkward. Just like she did. In Addy’s mind, that made him even more attractive.
She smiled and nodded. “I’d love that.”
Jonathon reached out and grabbed her hand, covering it with both of his. “Thanks.”
She couldn’t believe how a simple touch from this boy could make her heart race like she’d just run a marathon. But there it was. She glanced at the van waiting just a few feet away. “I guess I should be getting back to The Mansion.”
“I guess so.” He squeezed her hand and smiled. “Did I say thanks?”
“Yes, I think so.” Addy laughed.
“Good. Because I meant it.”
On the ride home, Addy relived every minute of their time together. She hadn’t enjoyed herself so much in a long time. She felt energized, happy. Jonathon didn’t feel like the president’s son or the guy she was trying to win a date to prom with. He felt like a friend.
Addy leaned back against the leather headrest as the van pulled onto the dirt road that led to the row of trailers. She enjoyed one last minute of quiet, knowing that as soon as she stepped foot into their trailer, Kara would expect to hear all about Addy’s golfing adventure.
Chapter 18
Jonathon Jackson Gives Kazoo-Playing Contestant Private Lessons?’” Addy threw down the paper and screamed. “What is this?”
“There are more,” Kara said. “Some little elves left them for us this morning with a note attached. The note was so dirty I flushed it down the toilet.”
Addy felt like her chest was going to explode. Apparently paparazzi had been hiding in the woods around the golf course. Her picture along with ridiculous speculation by “journalists” left Addy looking like a slutty opportunist.
“We did nothing, Kara. We just played a round of golf. With Secret Service guys right behind us the whole time. And these papers make it sound like I took him into the woods and . . .” Addy couldn’t even finish her sentence. Tears burned her eyes. “How do I even fight this? If I say we just played golf, no one will believe me. If I don’t say anything, people will just assume it’s true.” The tears couldn’t be held back any longer, falling like fire onto Addy’s cheeks. “Kara, I’ve never even kissed a boy.”
She sat next to Addy, rubbing her back and nodding. “Addy, breathe. It’s probably going to get worse before it gets better.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“But it’s going to get better. These things are like a Jolly Rancher—juicy for a while, but eventually it disappears and is completely forgotten.”
Addy couldn’t help but laugh. “That has to be the dumbest simile ever.”
“Hey, I got you to smile.”
Someone banged on the girls’ door, and Addy knew her life was about to get much worse.
“Get out here right now, Addy,” Hank boomed.
Addy squeezed Kara’s arm for support, then walked to the door and opened it. Hank was standing on the top step, almost causing Addy to stumble right into him. Less than ten feet away, the other girls and half the crew stood looking on. Addy was sure she saw fiendish glee in their eyes. Bloodlust. She pictured Hank grabbing her by the neck and throwing her on the ground, the others jumping on top, kicking and punching and pulling her hair. The coroner would of course rule it an accidental death.
“Don’t you dare ignore me,” Hank demanded.
She had been doing just that—unintentionally, of course. But she wasn’t even going to bother trying to tell Hank that. She had to choose her battles, and today’s battle was named “I am not a slutty opportunist.”
Hank shook a paper in his hand, the veins on his bronzed forehead looking like a map of downtown Tampa. “What do you think you’re doing?” he yelled. “It’s one thing to try to get attention by mouthing off or by making a fool of yourself. But how dare you pull Jonathon into your lunatic schemes.”
Bile rose in her throat. She tried to explain what actually happened, but of course, Hank didn’t believe a word.
“Jonathon called me first thing and insisted the story wasn’t true.” Hank snorted. “Sure he said that. He has a reputation to maintain. The president is so upset by this, he is threatening to pull the plug on the whole show,” Hank continued, St. Petersburg now added to the forehead map. “This entire show could be demolished because of you,” Hank yelled, the crowd behind him joining in.
Hank took another step toward her, and Addy braced herself for what she was sure to be a blow when Eric pushed through the crowd.
“Stop it, Hank. This is a seventeen-year-old girl,” Eric spat, eye to eye with his boss who had stepped down from Addy’s trailer. “And this is a free country. We are innocent until proven guilty here, and pictures on a tabloid are certainly not proof of guilt.”
Hank’s forehead continued to throb, but he backed away, walking toward the crowd and pushing aside anyone who happened to be in his way. The crowd followed him and within seconds only Addy, Kara, and Eric remained.
“Addy, I’m sorry.” Eric watched Hank and the girls storm off. “Sorry for the papers, sorry for Hank. You don’t deserve this. You and Kara are probably the sweetest girls we have on this show. I’ve watched you the past two weeks—I know.” He sighed and raked a hand through his thinning blond hair.
“Thanks, Eric.” Addy sniffed, barely able to breathe through her tears.
“Come with me for a minute.” Eric pulled her behind the row of trailers. “I’ve got some news that will cheer you up, but it has to stay between us. All right?”
“Of course.”
“Good.” Eric spoke quietly, looking around as he continued. “I did go to film school, which is why I’m here. But I am currently a Secret Service agent working undercover.”
“Wow.”
“Shhh,” Eric whispered. “We can’t be too careful with the president’s son. So no one knows who I really am. The crew just thinks I’m one of the assistant directors, and that’s how it needs to stay.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“We discovered a problem with one of the show’s guards yesterday.”
“Oh no.” Addy put her hand over her heart. “Is Jonathon in trouble?”
“No, he wasn’t after Jonathon. He was selling information to the tabloids. He was the reason a photographer caught your golf date with Jonathon. No one was supposed to know any of you guys were out there.”
“That’s terrible,” Addy said.
“Here’s where the good news comes in.” Eric glanced around before going on. “I spoke to my superior. He served with your uncle back in the nineties.”
“Uncle Mike?”
“Yep. Small world, huh? They were both at MacDill Air Force Base.”
“But how did he know Mike was my uncle?”
“It’s our job to know everything about everybody who comes near the president’s son.”
“Oh,” Addy said.
“My boss wants to bring Mike in to replace the guard we just fired.”
Addy forced herself no
t to jump up and down and scream. “That’s wonderful.”
“He’s coming tomorrow,” Eric said. “But you can’t let anyone know you’re related.”
“Why?”
“It’s just better that way. Trust me.”
“But won’t Hank and the other producers know?”
“The lawyers keep all that information, and they work in LA,” Eric reassured Addy. “No one here, least of all Hank, has even looked at that paperwork. Hank doesn’t even know the names of the crew.”
That was true. Just yesterday she had seen Hank walk up to a cameraman and lift the name tag from the man’s lanyard before addressing him. Even then, Hank had mispronounced the man’s name.
Addy returned to her trailer with a skip in her step.
Uncle Mike is coming!
Jessica
BOL: Good morning. How are you enjoying your time here on The Book of Love?
JESSICA: How am I enjoying it? Lemme just tell you . . . no, I can’t. There aren’t words. I mean, just look at this place. Seriously, turn that camera around. That’s it. Look at it. It rocks. It’s like being in an old movie but with fancy cameras everywhere. And food. Woo, if I didn’t watch it, I could eat so much you’d have to ship me out in a semitruck. I’d be squeezing myself out that door, grabbing one more jelly-filled donut on the way out.
BOL: Well, all right. So what do you do back home in Colorado Springs?
JESSICA: It’s more like what do I not do. I am on the varsity track, basketball, skiing, and softball teams, so I’m moving all the time.
BOL: I can tell. Do you ever have any free time, and if so, what do you do with it?
JESSICA: Well, I am a Colorado girl (wink to the camera), so I love hiking and skiing and anything outdoors. Gimme the sun and the snow and off I go.
BOL: What do you hope to do after you finish high school?
JESSICA: I love my sports, and I plan to stick with those through college and beyond. Skiiing is my absolute favorite. My dream is to try out for the Olympic ski team. Gold medal, baby. USA all the way.
BOL: Very impressive. Now tell us about boys, Jessica. What do you look for in a guy you’d like to date?
