“Check your e-mail, chick. You're the next Internet sensation.”
Lark practically bolted out of the tub, not bothering to dry herself. Twice she slipped on the hardwood flooring before she made it to the desk where her laptop was set up. Heart pounding, she opened her e-mail until she found Robin's message. The only thing in it was a link, which she promptly clicked.
A few moments later, a grainy black-and-white video of her and James appeared on her screen. For several moments Lark stood there, holding the phone to her ear, but not speaking or hearing a word Robin said. She could only stare in mortification. Every detail of the previous evening came slamming home in vivid detail. Her cries of passion, his explicit encouragement. Everything.
“Ohmigod,” she whispered. This would completely ruin James. Would he think she had something to do with this? It had been her idea to take a walk on the beach, but his idea to make love there. Unfortunately, this video showed nothing of the tender emotions Lark felt when she and James had actually done this. This was a couple, fucking ruthlessly under the pier for no reason other than self-gratification. Was it really like that? Did James see it that way? “Ohmigod!”
“Yeah, you said that already,” Robin snapped. “What the fuck were you thinking?” Before Lark could form a coherent reply, Robin continued. “Oh, that's right. You weren't thinking! You had his dick too far up your—”
“That's enough, Robin!” Lark snapped her reply, though honestly, they did look hot if one knew the context and how they felt about one another, and... Fuck! This was a nightmare.
“It's not nearly enough, Lark! But I'll let it slide for now. What are we going to do about it?” That was so like Robin. She took Lark's problems and made them her own. Over the years, Lark had come to realize there was nothing they couldn't do if they stuck together.
Lark took a deep breath and blew it out, then did it again for good measure. Calm. She needed calm. “First, I have to call James. If he doesn't know about this, I want him to hear it from me. If he does, I need to know if he has a plan and what part he wants me to play.”
“Okay. Call me back.” Robin ended the call.
This was bad. Worse than bad—there was a video of her fucking a well-known politician on fucking Porntube! This was totally something written for the tabloids! With shaking hands she fumbled around until she found the card James had given her. It felt as if both her heart and her stomach had taken up permanent residence in her throat as she dialed his private number. Where had he said he was going again? She couldn’t remember, but the call wouldn’t go through. The only reply she could get was a generic message about the person being out of the area or some such nonsense.
“What am I going to do?” Lark spoke out loud to no one at all while pacing, the air-conditioning chilling her still wet skin.
Having no clue where the number on the front would go, she had to think carefully about whether to not to call it. If she did and the wrong person answered, this could blow up big time. But if she didn't warn someone before someone other than Robin saw it...no, she didn't even want to think about. With so much at stake, she had no choice. She called the number, relieved when that Stafford guy answered. He and James might have argued the night before, but the man was still his campaign manager. If anyone could come up with a plan to fix this, it was Stafford.
“Buchanan for Congress, how can I help you?”
Weird—she wanted to giggle a little at the sound of the sour-faced guy she’d seen last night sounding so much like a receptionist.
“Uh, this is Lark Toussaint. I'm trying to reach James, but his cell is out of range. Can you help me? It's really important."
There was a pause before he continued. “Hello, Lark. I’m sorry, but James is indisposed at the moment. I'll be happy to relay a message for him if you like.”
“Um, this is kind of embarrassing, but tell him that our walk last night may not have been so private. I, uh, if you give me an e-mail address I’ll send him a link he might want to see.” God, this was hard. She felt like some kind of Jezebel, and she hadn’t even done anything wrong! “Tell him I’m really sorry. If there’s anything I can do to make it...right, or whatever, I will.”
“Not to worry, miss. I'll take care of this from our end. Thanks for bringing it to our attention.”
There was a sinking feeling deep down inside that this might be it for her and the congressman. How could they have been so reckless? Even if she hadn’t been the one to start things under the pier, Lark felt a great deal of responsibility. She wrote down the e-mail address without even thinking about what she was writing, sending the link and promptly running into the bathroom to throw up.
*****
Robert hadn’t meant to listen in on Stafford’s phone call, but he’d been intrigued when he heard Lark’s name. No matter what James might think, good old Staff was NOT going to come around and accept the lovely songstress. Stafford was decidedly old school about things like interracial relationships. When the other man hung up the phone and ran over to the computer, Robert decided to stay right where he was, hidden from Stafford’s view. It was a damn good thing he’d decided to stay instead of heading out with James and Mason to go fishing. He’d had a little too much revelry the night before and hadn’t been feeling well. The only reason he’d come into Stafford’s room was to see if he had any aspirin. Because of the connecting door between the hotel rooms, Stafford hadn’t heard him come in.
“Yes! I’ve got the bitch now!” Stafford cackled, clicking around on the computer. Robert couldn’t make out exactly what he was doing, but he could hear the next phone call Stafford made clearly. “Hey, Brad, this is Stafford. We have a problem. A video of our boy caught in the act was uploaded on some porn site. No, no, it wasn’t listed as being the congressman, but we need to get it taken down right away. I will deal with James. You just make damned sure any video is wiped from this site. Yeah, I’m sending it to you now. Not a word to anyone else, you hear me? Call me once it’s done.” Stafford ended the call, clicked the computer several more times, then sat back in the chair, a satisfied smirk on his face.
Whatever Stafford was thinking, Robert knew it wasn’t good. The look in the other man’s eyes was way too gleeful to be in the midst of pulling James out of a possible scandal. Robert had no clue what it was on the video in question, but he did know Lark had warned Stafford. In his book, a woman didn't try to protect anyone she was trying to bring down. That made her perfect for his cousin in his book. It didn’t look like Stafford had the same idea. Waiting until Stafford finally got up and left the room, Robert made his way over to the computer to see what Stafford had been watching.
“I'll be a son of a bitch.” He was barely aware he'd said it out loud, but immediately turned to the door to make sure Stafford hadn't heard him. Lark must be beside herself. He knew he sure was. One thing was certain, Robert knew he had to get to James before Stafford. He was certain Stafford would try to pin this on Lark, and Robert was unwilling to do that until he had all the facts.
The Politician
Chapter Six
“Miss Lark Toussaint?”
Lark’s heart stopped as she saw who was standing on her doorstep. The sour-faced man, Stafford. This couldn’t be good.
“Yes?” Please don’t let it be the video, she silently prayed. The very last thing she ever wanted to do was cause James problems. She may not be a member of his political party, but that didn’t mean she wanted him to lose. She really cared for him. Loved him, really, though she knew it was crazy to feel this way.
“Can I come in?” Even though Stafford asked, he took a step forward, forcing Lark back. She had little choice but to let him in or slam the door on the man.
“What’s this about?” she demanded.
She didn’t like him. There was just something about his demeanor that was oily, completely untrustworthy. The vibes coming off the man just seemed all wrong. Just because she had to let him in didn’t mean she was about to welcome him i
nto her temporary living room for a chit chat. She stayed right by the door, rubbing her arms at the sudden chill in the summer air.
“I think you know.” Stafford looked menacing; at least he would if she’d been the least bit afraid, which she wasn’t. "We've got one hell of a situation on our hands here, and I think you know what it is.”
Lark found it hard to swallow. The video. Damn it to hell and back, why did people have to be such ass-wipes? What kind of person videotaped a private moment and uploaded it on the Internet?
“Did someone find out it was James?” It didn’t matter who knew that was her in the video. She had nothing to lose. But this could kill James’ career.
“No, we caught that in time. But what about the next time? What do you think is going to happen to his chances when people find out their golden boy is seeing someone like you?” Stafford sneered at her, looking for all the world like some kind of teenage girl in a snit.
She hated him. It made her feel terrible to admit it even to herself, but this man was reprehensible. He was also making too much sense for her peace of mind. The truth was she wasn’t offended by the little “someone like you” dig. Simple minds thought like that; she knew who she was, and frankly she liked herself. But James represented a very conservative district in Georgia. How many of them would take one look at her and decide not to vote for him, just because of the color of her skin?
“James is a grown man. He can make his own decisions.” Lark couldn’t bring herself to admit to him he was right. Not to his face. It would be like giving up on James, and she knew he wouldn’t walk away from her. Not even for the video.
“He’d blame you, you know.” Stafford pushed. “Maybe not today, but soon he would see you as the anchor weighing him down. He’ll eventually hate you for ruining him, like you almost did with that video—very clever of you to call as if you were oh so concerned about it. I know you’re a registered member of the opposite party. You probably cooked this all up yourself.”
It was a relief that the man was stupid enough to take it too far. James would never blame her, even if she was the reason he lost his seat in Congress. That wasn’t the kind of man he was. How sad that this man had known the congressman far longer than she, and yet he never saw what a good person James really was. The part about the video being her idea just pissed her off. Who cared what party she was registered to; she lived in California, for crying out loud! Why would she care about some district in Southern Georgia?
“You’re an idiot. James would never hold it against me if he lost in a landslide. That isn’t the type of person he is, and you of all people should know that.” Never had she been so mad before in her life. The man was a walking, talking asshole. “And he would never believe I had anything to do with the video—because I didn’t, you simple-minded hick! But don’t worry, I won’t ruin his career, but not because of a damn thing you said. Because I happen to genuinely care about him, something you obviously don’t.” She couldn’t listen to another word. She opened the door, gesturing for him to leave. “Get out!”
But as the door slammed closed behind the offensive creature, the anger melted away, leaving only heartbreak behind. She had to leave. James would pursue her from now until they were married if she didn't. In her heart, she believed that, believed in him. He'd said as much before, though she hadn't been sure at the time, but she knew he would. Felt it in her bones. She also knew she loved him. Beyond all reason, in less than a week, she loved him. It was time to set him free. If it was meant to be, he'd find her. If not, she'd deal. Tears streaming down her face, Lark called the club and canceled the rest of her shows before packing and booking a flight home.
*****
James couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. No, that wasn’t exactly true—he knew what he was seeing all right. He had been there, experienced every glorious second. What he couldn’t quite believe was that this was Lark’s doing.
“She wouldn’t do something like this.” He just couldn’t bring himself to believe it no matter what Stafford said. Lark wouldn’t have set him up like this.
“She did it,” Stafford was adamant. “We’re lucky Brad just happened upon it.”
It made no sense. There was nothing conniving about Lark.
“I have to call her—” James began only to be cut off.
“No! That is the worst thing you could do. What do you expect? For her to just admit she set you up?” Stafford was livid. His entire face was turning deep red. James had never seen his campaign manager like this. “The woman is poison! You call her and she will just lie. You’ve seen it happen to others a thousand times. You don’t want to be a statistic, do you?”
“Shut up, Stafford.” He couldn’t hear anymore. He wouldn’t. The man was dangerously close to saying something that would either get him fired or punched in the face. “I used to trust you. Now...” He shook his head sorrowfully. Stafford cared about nothing but elections and power. He’d say anything to get Lark out of James' life.
Stalking from the room, he pulled out his cell and called Lark. He needed to see her. If she’d seen the video that had been scrubbed from the online porn site, she was probably horrified. After several rings, her voice mail kicked on. He left a message for her to call him, but he had a sinking feeling she wouldn't. Not knowing what else to do, he got in the car and drove to her house. As soon as he pulled up, he knew she wasn't there. The tiny bungalow was completely dark, but even more than that, there was a feeling he got as he walked to the front door. The place felt cold, completely lacking the warmth and laughter that was Lark.
After knocking more than was sane, he got back into the car, driving to the blues club. She wouldn’t be there, but that didn't stop him from finding the manager to demand her whereabouts. All he found out was that she was gone; the rest of the shows she was supposed to perform had been cancelled, and she’d left no forwarding address—none that the manager would give him, anyway.
There was a gnawing ache where his heart should be as he drove away. He’d lost her. It felt more as if he were missing a piece of himself. Why did she leave? This was all going south too fast; he needed to regroup. There was still the campaign to think of, even if his heart wasn’t in it. It wasn't what he wanted to concentrate on, but there were too many people he couldn't let down if he could help it.
This was getting him nowhere. There was nothing more for him in Florida. Not even the company of his cousins could cheer him up. Everything about this place would only remind him of Lark. He'd go back to Georgia and concentrate on his campaign and give her a little time. If he still didn't hear anything from her, he'd try a different tactic. Either way, he'd have her back.
The Politician
Chapter Seven
“You’re a fucking idiot. How could you let her get away?" Mason generally only spoke sarcasm. For him to come straight out and call James an idiot meant James was really an idiot. Not that he didn't know that already.
“Tell me something I don’t already know.” Nothing had been right since leaving Florida. He tried to throw himself into his re-election campaign, but his heart just wasn't in it. Now that he thought about it, it never really had been. Even before Lark. He was questioning everything, all his previous so-called beliefs. How much had been things he really believed, and how much had just been because that was all the things he was supposed to say and do?
“Why are you doing this, James?” Robert gripped his shoulder and make James look at him.
James opened his mouth to deliver one of many practiced lines, but nothing came out. “You know, I've been asking myself that question for a long time.”
“Get over it already!” Mason threw his hands up in exasperation. “You don’t want to run for Congress any more than I do. Find out where she is and go after her!”
“It's been a month. If she'd wanted to continue our relationship, I'm sure she would have answered one of my thousands of phone calls.” James knew his voice was laced with sarcasm, but he couldn't he
lp it. Oh, he was definitely going after her; it just irked him that she wouldn't at least talk to him. She should at least have answered his calls. When Mason opened his mouth for another retort, no doubt questioning his parentage or something equally insulting, he raised a hand to stop him. “Relax, Mason. I'm going after her. I'm just waiting on Brad to get back to me. He's looking up her information through her cellular carrier.”
Mason crossed his arms over his chest. “Why the fuck didn't you say so?”
James raised an eyebrow. “I just did.”
“Well, why the hell are we still in Georgia?” Robert demanded. “When are we leaving?”
“What are you, French?” Mason cut in. “Yeah, but when are we leaving? Can’t stand this damned state.”
James blinked at his cousins, smiling despite his foul mood. “You were born here, Mace.”
“Doesn’t mean I have to like it. Been wanting to see the ‘Left Coast,’ as you politician types call it.” Mason sat back on James’ couch, putting his dirty boots on the coffee table.
Any other time James would probably throw something at him, but now he just didn't care. This place wasn't a home to him anymore. Home was where Lark was.
“Waiting for Stafford.” James had a few words for his former campaign manager. “I have some things I need to get off my chest.”
Neither Robert nor Mason questioned his tone. They knew him too well for that.
“Well hell, Rob, go pop some popcorn.” Mason grinned wide, flashing every one of his pearly whites. “This is gonna be good!”
As if on cue, Stafford let himself in, rubbing his hands together like a kid getting ready to unwrap the mother lode of Christmas presents under the tree. “Okay. I've got everyone on board. We've managed to raise more money than any other candidates for the House, and we're rid of...” He trailed off, glancing at James before clearing his throat and continuing. “We're on our way to victory once again. All you have to do is sign the paperwork declaring your intent to run.”
The Politician Page 4
