by Chelle Bliss
My phone buzzes with a text, and I look down at the screen.
Lexi: He seems nice.
I look at her, and she rolls her eyes. At least I’m not alone in disliking Tom.
“I’m glad to be working with you all,” Tom says to my staff. “I think we can get this campaign back on track. I’m experienced at winning against the odds. Reagan, you’re familiar with my experience, right?”
I want to slap him. Or better yet, kick him in the balls. Tom is deliberately flaunting my young stupidity in my face. This is exactly why I didn’t want him here.
“I think so,” I say, drawing my brows together. “It’s been so long, it’s hard to even remember.”
“I’ll jog your memory,” Tom says with a wink.
“Ew,” Lexi mutters.
My thoughts exactly.
Some of Tom’s ideas are good. He wants me to emphasize my legislative experience and rally the Democratic base in our heavily Democratic state. It’s like home-field advantage.
But mostly, we’ve spent the morning and early afternoon arguing about his plans to discredit Jude.
“Let’s focus on me, not him,” I say for at least the fifth time.
“We have to work both angles.”
I get up from my seat, my muscles sore from sitting on the bus all day. We’re heading to Southern Illinois for a rally tonight, which gives us all day to strategize during the drive. I managed to escape Tom for an hour when we stopped for lunch, but other than that, I’ve been dealing with him all day and I’m on edge.
“Lexi, get me a spreadsheet of all county party chair email addresses,” Tom says. He’s looking over the top of his glasses, which are perched low on his nose.
“Don’t order her around,” I say before Lexi can respond. “Ask her.”
Tom glares at me. “We need to dispense with formalities.”
“That’s fine, but let’s not dispense with common courtesy.”
Tom flips the pen in his hand across the bus, and it bounces off the window. “Look, Reagan. I’m not doing this back-and-forth with you all the time. Your father sent me here to run this campaign. Run it. Not hold hands with your circle of friends and share ideas. Are we all clear about who’s in charge?”
The bus is completely silent. No one is moving a muscle as Tom and I stare each other down. I unclench my jaw and force a smile.
“Yes, we’re clear.”
“Good. When we get to the hotel, you and I will be tweaking your stump speech in your room.”
“You, me, and Lexi,” I correct. “Lexi and I share a room at hotels.”
We’ve gone back and forth up to now, but things have changed now that Tom’s around. I want Lexi rooming with me at every hotel from here on out.
“Sure,” Tom says, looking back down at the paper on the table. “She’s welcome to sit in.”
He’s so condescending. I wish I could vent about him to Jude, but that’s not happening. When I take out my cell phone to sneak a look at his mid-orgasm pic from last night, I see a waiting text from him. He sent it more than an hour ago.
Jude: Thinking about u.
Me: Same. Sorry it took me so long to write back, I was working out a deal with the Trib to sell that photo of you from last night.
Jude: Funny. Tell them u got me off with ur sexy moaning.
Me: Where are you today?
Jude: Near the MO border at St. Louis. You?
Me: Rally down south.
Jude: I hear you hired The Barber.
Tom’s known in political circles as Tom “The Barber” Harbor because he cuts off opponents. I wonder if Jude is intimidated that he’s on my team now. I also wonder how he got the news so quickly.
Me: Are you spying on me?
Jude: Always. Don’t forget it. Tom’s a perv, so steer clear of him.
Me: He’s not a personal fav of mine, but I need help.
Jude: I wish we could both get what we want. I want to win, but there’s a part of me that hates you having to lose to make it happen.
Me: I’ll be okay either way. I’ve gained a new perspective.
Jude: So after the election, can we start seeing each other?
I shake my head and smile.
Me: November’s a long way away, Titan. And the race only gets tougher from here. You may hate me by then.
Jude: Never.
Me: So you want to crush me and then date me?
Jude: Something like that.
Me: You sure it’s not just the thrill of the forbidden with your political opponent?
Jude: I’m sure. I’ll make a Republican out of you yet. ;)
Me: Never.
Jude: I like your fire. And I’ll always respect you, even when we don’t agree.
I soften inside as I read the words.
“Reagan?” Tom says, pulling me out of the moment. “We’re just about there. Can you finish up whatever very important work you’re doing?”
Again with the condescension. Tom’s such a dick. I roll my eyes and look back down at my phone screen.
Me: Will you still want to date me after the election if I win?
Jude: Hell yeah.
Me: Okay. Because I plan to. Game on, Titan.
Jude: Game on. And let’s FaceTime later.
Chapter 19
I haven’t even had a chance to change out of my suit and enjoy a drink before Carl comes barreling into my room in a panic. He’s pacing, pulling his hair, and ranting to the point I can’t understand a word he’s saying.
“What?” I ask, staring at him over the rim of my drink. “Calm down, Carl.”
The man’s going to have a heart attack any day now and end up in an early grave—everything stresses him out.
He stops in front of me and fists his hands at his sides. “They did it,” he huffs out, barely able to stand still.
“Who did what?” I place my glass on the table and brace myself for whatever news he’s about to hurl my way.
“Preston. We got her.”
My eyebrow rises. Now he’s piqued my curiosity. “We do?”
He’s pacing again, wearing a new pattern into the hotel carpet. “You know how I told you about Harbor joining her campaign staff yesterday?”
“Yep.” It didn’t faze me when I heard the news, and Carl didn’t seem worried or excited about the idea, but now he’s practically manic.
“Okay, so,” he says, pausing and smoothing down his hair before he starts flailing his arms around wildly. “Remember I told you I had the perfect thing to destroy Reagan, but you told me absolutely not?”
My body tenses, and I instantly feel protective of her. “I don’t want any part of this. I told you we’re not running a campaign to discredit her.”
“She slept with Harbor when he was married, Jude. This is so big it will ruin her political career.”
Wait—what? Reagan fucked Harbor? Harbor was married? I know Harbor worked on her father’s campaign, but surely her father didn’t sanction this activity. If he knew about it, there’s no way he’d send Harbor back into her life.
I’m so shocked by the news I can’t even respond at first. My fist curls around the mug, and I want to crush it in my palm. “No, Carl! Absolutely not.”
His eyes go wide and his head jerks back. “Jude—”
“Listen,” I say as I stand and move into his personal space. “I don’t care who she fucked or when she did it. This is not something I want used to win the election. Do you understand me, Carl?”
“This is the final nail in the coffin—”
My nose touches his, and I’m reaching for his collar when I pull my hand back. “If this gets leaked—no matter who spills the beans—I’m coming for you, Carl. I’ll make sure you never work in politics again. I’ve made myself clear, and I expect you to follow orders.” My stare is icy as I peer into his eyes and wait for his word that he won’t leak this to the press.
His eyes narrow and are filled with rage. “I just don’t understand you, Titan.”
Fuck asking him to do it.
I’m beyond asking people to follow my wishes.
Carl’s not above spilling the beans if he feels he’s right and I’m wrong. I know this about him. His loyalty to my victory will trump everything else—even Reagan’s honor and my wishes.
He backs away from me and shakes his head with his lips pursed. “You may not win without it.”
“So be it.” I’m so pissed off that I want to punch something or someone—preferably Tom Harbor. “We’ve always been honorable men, and I want the campaign to be no different.”
I can’t figure out who I’m angrier with—Carl or Reagan.
Carl because, well, he’s Carl. But he’s also only doing his job.
Or Reagan for fucking around with Tom Harbor and leaving a trail.
“I figured you to have bigger balls, Jude,” Carl replies, but he can’t goad me into giving him the go-ahead.
I grab my crotch, making sure he sees just how big of a handful it is, and laugh. “I don’t need to tear down a woman for something she did years ago to prove my manhood. Maybe you get off on hurting women, but I sure as fuck don’t.”
His head is shaking, muttering under his breath about the race and how I’m going to lose. I sit back down, glaring daggers at him and grab my coffee mug. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to finish my drink in peace and prep for tomorrow’s rally, Carl.”
He starts to leave, and before he closes the door, I hear him say, “Pussy.”
I lean forward in my chair, take a deep breath, and rub my eyes. When I woke up this morning, I thought it was going to be a good day—fucking wrong! I can’t wrap my head around the thought of Reagan sleeping with Tom, not only because he’s quite a few years older than her, but because he was married when she did it.
Reagan doesn’t seem to be the type who would take marriage lightly. But then again, what do I really know about her? Very little besides what I’ve read in the campaign file Carl compiled and what I’ve heard in the media.
It’s pretty basic information. Shit anyone could find searching the internet. There wasn’t even a rumor about her and Tom or any other man that had been found until Carl hired a private investigator.
Maybe there’s no truth to it. Maybe it’s the word of a jealous sorority sister trying to get her face on the news and have her ten seconds of fame.
I’m about to pour myself a second drink, when my phone beeps.
Boo: Hey.
I stare at the screen for a moment and think about saying something to her about Tom. I so badly want to hear her side of the story, but then she may think I’m accusing her of something. Plus, she’ll panic and probably assume that I’ll use it against her—I’m fucked no matter what if I bring it up.
Me: Hey, yourself.
Boo: Have a good day?
Me: It was…okay.
She’s typing back, the three little dots on the screen are moving quickly, and I take the chance to grab the bottle of whiskey and place it next to me at the table. I have a feeling I’m going to need it.
Boo: What happened? Mine was just okay too. Tom being here on the road is different. The crowd at today’s rally was smaller than Lexi had expected, and it has everyone worried.
Different. I’m sure being on the road with someone she’s fucked and texting the man she wants to fuck has to put a damper on her day—or least add to the excitement level.
Me: Are you naked?
I couldn’t help but gloss over the entire topic.
Boo: I only have on my Louboutins
“Fuck,” I groan at the mental picture I have of her with her flawless white skin and a pair of black and red heels and nothing else.
Me: Liar.
Boo:
Me: So everyone’s in an uproar over there? I’m sure Tom can handle it with all of his experience.
Boo: He does have a lot of experience, but my crew isn’t used to the way he does shit.
Me: Tell me about those shoes again.
Boo: Want to FaceTime? Lexi’s gone for about twenty minutes.
Me: Lexi?
Boo: We’re sharing a room tonight.
Me: You call me when you’re ready.
Quickly, I remove my tie and open the top two buttons of my dress shirt to get more comfortable. I keep my clothes on in case Lexi walks in, although that could be interesting.
The annoying, space-age ringer plays, and I answer it on the third ring so I don’t seem too anxious.
She’s smiling with her face close to the camera and fully clothed.
“I didn’t think you were naked,” I say as my eyes move around the screen and take in the entirety of her.
She giggles, tipping her head back in laughter and exposing her beautiful neck. “No. I figured you’d want to FaceTime me if you thought I was, though.”
I smirk. I would’ve rather seen her naked, but I would’ve chatted with her no matter what. “So where’s Tom?” Lifting the whiskey to my lips, I watch her for any clues.
She gives away nothing, pulling the phone backward with her. “He’s somewhere. Not too far probably. He never is.”
“I’m sure,” I mumble into the bottom of the glass.
She tilts her head with furrowed brows. “What?”
“Nothing. So tell me about the rally. Is it because of the debate?”
“I don’t know.” She sighs. “I think everyone’s panicking for no reason. I swear, if they’re not stressed, they’re not happy.”
“Carl, too.”
There’s a loud knock at Reagan’s door, and she glances up, turning white. “Hold on one second,” she says and places her finger against her lips. “Don’t say anything while I get rid of whoever this is. Okay?”
“On my word,” I tell her and make a cross over my heart.
When she climbs off the bed, the camera points toward the ceiling, giving me nothing to go off of, but I hear her hotel room door open.
“What do you want?”
“I thought we could talk,” a man says.
“Tom, I’m busy. Can we do this another time?” she tells him, and I press my face practically against the screen like I can see something even though I know I can’t.
The door closes, and I think he’s gone until he says, “Come on, don’t be that way. What else do you have to do tonight?” His voice is louder now; he must’ve moved closer to the phone.
“Tom, you need to leave. This is Lexi’s room too, and she wouldn’t be happy about you being in here.” Reagan’s voice sounds strained.
I put my finger over my camera in case Tom’s close enough to see her screen, but I can still hear everything. I’m holding my breath at this point, taking tiny puffs of air when I can without making a sound.
“She seemed pretty busy down in the dining room. I say we have at least ten minutes until she gets back. Don’t you want to catch up? I haven’t seen you in a long time.”
I hear an impact, skin on skin, but I don’t dare take my finger off the camera, no matter how badly I want to see what’s going on.
“Don’t touch me, Tom. Go. Get out before I have you removed from my campaign. When I say leave, I mean it.”
“You’re much different than the last time I saw you. What happened to the Reagan I knew?” I can hear the frustration in his voice. He came to her room looking for something, maybe he expected it to happen—maybe they already picked up where they left off years ago.
“I grew up. I’m not a little girl anymore. I’m a woman, and this is my campaign. You’re interrupting my time to relax. I’d appreciate it if you leave now, or I’ll have you removed from the campaign.”
His laugh is deep and deafening. “Don’t be stupid, Reagan. You need me. That’s why I’m here.”
The sound of heavy footsteps followed by the door is all I hear for a moment.
“Out.” Her voice is louder this time, more commanding. “Don’t ever come
to my room unless you’re invited.”
“Reagan,” he says, and his voice trails off. I move the phone closer to my ear, trying to hear what he says, but I hear nothing.
Moments later, the door closes and the phone jostles, my view changing to the shitty blue comforter on the bed. “Sorry,” she says, grimacing as she picks up the phone and looks into the camera.
“No problem.” I say nothing else and wait for her to start the conversation. Maybe she’ll fill me in on their past. Maybe she’ll actually confide in me.
Her eyes dart toward the door briefly, and she takes a deep breath. “How much did you hear?”
“Not much,” I lie. “Who was it?”
“Tom,” she says his name with a sour look on her face. “He wanted to talk strategy.”
The moment the lie trickles from her tongue, my stomach knots. “He’s like Carl. He could talk strategy all day long and never get tired of it.”
“Yeah. Winning is the only thing on his mind.”
Another lie. Tom didn’t come to her room to talk shop, and the only thing he wanted to win tonight was a dip inside Reagan’s panties. I couldn’t blame the guy for it. It’s on my mind every time I’m in the same room with her too.
“Shit, Lexi’s coming in. I have to run,” she says and waves at me. “Talk soon.”
Before I can answer, she disconnects the call, and I’m left with more questions than I had after Carl walked out of my room in a tizzy.
Does Reagan want to pick up right where she left off with Tom? Possibly… She could’ve just brushed him off because I could hear.
Is she playing me to win? Not improbable.
But there’s one thing I do know—I’m going to find out, and I’ll fight tooth and nail to win more than just the election.
Chapter 20
It’s been more than three weeks of nonstop campaigning since I last saw Jude. All we have is texts and occasional quick phone calls. Well, I also have my mid-orgasm photo of him.
But it’s not enough. I want to be with him, and I’m so over sneaking around. He’s been on edge lately, and I don’t know if it’s because of the campaign…or me.
