Lieutenant

by Lesli Richardson

  Being friends with them feels comfortable in a way nothing has ever felt before. Carter is twenty-eight, almost ten years older than me. Owen’s only two years older than me.

  Doesn’t matter. Not to me.

  After dinner, once the kitchen is cleaned up and we’ve returned to the living room, as we continue discussing politics it strikes me that Carter is a far deeper man than most people likely realize. He’s got a way of grasping the larger picture you don’t usually see in someone so new to the jungle that is Florida politics.

  While I’m studying Owen, an idea comes to mind.

  I can imagine Owen being sworn in as governor, with me as his lieutenant. Because Carter’s put forth an interesting proposition of a third-party run, and I can see it all laid out.

  It’d piss Daddy off something fierce, but it’s workable.

  Really workable.

  And it’ll ensure everyone knows my name without the parenthetical statement of who my father is as the sub-lede.

  I want that.

  Really, really want that.

  It’s amusing to learn Carter has an eidetic memory. When I quiz him, he literally can recite nearly verbatim what both I and the teacher said on the subject. From the shock on Owen’s face, I can see this is news to him, too.

  My mind races, miles and years ahead of where we are right here tonight. Someone like Carter, who can remember everything?

  He’s a weapon in more ways than one. Especially in the political world. Maybe he doesn’t realize that.

  Or, perhaps he does.

  At the end of the evening, Owen excuses himself to use the bathroom before they prepare to return to their dorm. Once I hear the bathroom door close behind Owen, I turn, and Carter’s now standing right behind me.

  I mean, he moves like a damn cat. He’d been sitting on the couch and I never heard him move.

  My clit’s throbbing as I stare up at him, at the intensity in his gaze as he studies me.

  “You really want to be governor?” he whispers.

  I nod. “I do.”

  “I want Owen to be governor. He wants it, but he’d never go for it on his own.” He studies me for a long moment, his gaze sweeping my body before settling on my eyes again. “I don’t want to hurt him,” he says.

  How bad is it that I know exactly what he means?

  And that we’re going to do it anyway.

  “Me, either,” I say.

  “I mean, there’s a lot of stuff you don’t know about him, or me. We do this, together, but we do this my way, and you don’t argue with me or deviate from the plan. I’m in charge. That means keeping this a secret from him, for now. You fuck the plan, or you lie to me, and we’re done. No second chances. Understand?”

  This is the second moment my world seriously shifts, although this one I vaguely recognize, at the time.

  “Yes, Sir,” I whisper, because no other answer feels right.

  The long, slow, sexy smile he gives me sets my clit throbbing in ways it never has before, no matter how great the sex, no matter how hot the book, no matter how fantastic the vibrator.

  Never have I ever felt like this before.

  I viscerally recognize that not only does this man completely understand me, he is in many ways a twin to me when it comes to politics, and the opposite side of the coin to me in personality in the ways that count.

  He leans in, cups the back of my neck, and slants a world-shattering, possessive, hungry kiss across my lips that I try to chase when he pulls back. He stops me with a finger to my lips and that smirk.

  “My very good girl,” he whispers. “We’re going to do great things, the three of us.”

  I turn when I hear the bathroom door open down the hall. When I turn back, Carter’s now sitting on the couch as if he never moved in the first place. He drops me a wink, which convinces me no, I didn’t imagine the whole thing.

  Shivers. Literal damn shivers race through me, and I don’t mean the spooky-house kind, either.

  I mean the I really want to fuck him kind of shivers.

  Because I know as we stare into each other’s eyes that this man before me is going to be the man I marry. He’d just claimed me.

  Believe it or not, I’m damn good with that.

  Chapter Four

  Now

  Owen and I walk into the massive ballroom to thunderous applause, a literal standing ovation. Dray and Carter have put together an amazing event for us tonight, one that’s personally meaningful to us as a campaign, as the people taking office, as an administration, and one that’s meaningful to our state as a whole.

  We want to heal divides and put our best foot forward while showcasing our state’s talents in multiple areas.

  There will be a light dinner first, buffet-style, before the actual dancing. And cake. We have a table near the stage where the bands will play. Momma and Daddy are seated nearby, along with Owen’s dad and step-mother. Other tables close to us seat Carter’s parents and some of his brothers and their significant others, Owen’s brothers and sisters, and other close friends and family.

  We juggled the seating around a little to put Dray on Owen’s other side, since Carter was seated next to me. I jealously didn’t want any women seated next to Owen. I joked we could say I hogged Owen’s COS for the evening, so Owen hogged mine.

  But bless their hearts, my guys made it so.

  When I see that, I drop Dray a knowing wink, which he returns with a smile of his own. Gregory’s on Dray’s far side, and that’s the end of the table.

  Carter and Dray also played around with the seating chart so that a larger and much more visible table holds quite a few dignitaries, such as the members of the Executive Cabinet—the Attorney General, Chief Financial Officer, and Commissioner of Ag, who are all elected, not appointed—along with the Secretary of Education and the Secretary of State—who are appointed. That table’s occupants also include US Senator ShaeLynn Samuels.

  It’s close to our smaller table, which unlike all the other tables is straight instead of round. It’s also much more visible than our own, which is positioned in the front left corner of the ballroom, and at an angle to the stage. An emergency door is located directly behind us, so it’s not merely to make Carter comfortable. It’s also a legitimate security issue. An armed deputy stands guard by the door to keep anyone from coming in, but Owen and I can easily rush out that way, if necessary.

  More importantly, the dignitary table is placed so it’s easier for them to see and be seen, especially by the press. Makes them feel important and spotlighted, and everyone has to pass by them to reach our table.

  Meaning they’re getting a lot of attention, and people are hung up talking to them before they ever reach us. The dignitaries’ egos are stroked, and they’re happy.

  Carter and Dray are geniuses. We’re not bogged down with as many people as we would be, because they’re stopping at the dignitary table first.

  Brilliant!

  Plus, Carter’s no dummy. Senator Samuels is a huge boon to have in attendance tonight. Rumors are flying she’s eyeing a run for POTUS in a few years, just like I imagined she would all those years ago when I interned for her mother.

  Despite the fact that she’s a Democrat, a sophomore Senator, and only thirty-seven, we want her on our side for many reasons. She stumped for us during this election, and she’ll be an important endorsement for Owen’s re-election, as well as for my own run in eight years.

  I learned so much from Daddy over the years by attending events with him, listening to his talks with other politicians and party officials. But I learned a few valuable lessons from Senator Marlene Samuels, ShaeLynn’s mother.

  The first thing I learned was to never be ashamed of your goals, never apologize for them.

  Own them.

  Carter and I are involved in a discussion with Daddy about—what else—a bill that will be hitting committee, when I realize Owen’s left the table. I never saw him leave, and I don’t have time to look around for him. B
ut when he returns a few minutes later, he’s carrying two plates of food.

  One for himself, and one for me.

  It’s perfect, too, because he knows exactly what I like and would want to eat from the offered selections.

  I somehow manage to blink back tears while I give him a friendly smile and poke his shoulder. “Thank you, O.” It’s our public-safe code when I don’t dare call him boy. His first name’s Owen, duh, and we’re friends.

  He smiles, my sweet boy. “You’re welcome, Ma’am.” He tucks his napkin into his lap and glances my way.

  I give him a quick nod, knowing what he wants.

  He starts eating.

  We won’t always be able to do this, so I want to give him what I can, when I can. Carter long ago lifted his requirements for Owen to ask permission to start eating, or before leaving our sides when we’re in public, rules Owen loved and thrived on for years.

  That he made a point of doing this for me tonight means the world to me. It’s one small way he can also let me know he still considers himself mine, even if he’s now my boss.

  Carter leans in to peck me on the cheek. “I see someone’s on the ball tonight. Excellent. I’ll be right back.” He crosses behind Owen when he leaves, giving Owen’s shoulder a brief squeeze when he passes.

  This is something else I know kills Owen a little inside. The fact that Owen watches Carter head for the buffet line is just more proof.

  Owen wanted to get both our plates, but getting one for me, his friend and lieutenant governor, is being a gentleman.

  Getting one for his chief of staff?

  If anyone noticed and decided to ask about it, it would mean uncomfortable questions, at best.

  Insinuations at worst.

  Insinuations we cannot risk. Especially right now.

  * * * *

  Once Owen and I have eaten, we each set out to work the room, greeting people, thanking them for their attendance, taking pictures, selfies, all of that. Carter shadows Owen and Dray shadows me, both of them periodically making notes on their phones as necessary.

  This is a celebration, but it’s a working one.

  Before the cake is served, a series of people stand on stage and give brief comments, congratulations, prepared remarks, including Senator Samuels.

  Then I take the stage. I normally would have prepared remarks to read from, but not tonight. Tonight, the spotlight rightfully belongs on Owen, not me. I want it to be my boy’s words they remember.

  A trooper from the security detail, who is standing in front of the stage, holds my hand as I climb the steps and take center stage to thunderous applause, a standing O. I’m handed a cordless mic.

  I glance first at Carter and Owen, then at Daddy and Momma. Daddy looks proud of me, and for a brief moment I feel badly that I now hold a higher office than he ever did.

  That feeling vanishes when I realize he himself would chide me for feeling like that.

  Daddy’s proud of me, of that I have no doubt.

  But Senator Benchley Evans is even prouder, even if his soul is likely a shade of pure green right now.

  “Thank you, everyone, for coming tonight. We’ll be getting to the dancing here shortly, but first, I wanted to say a few words. Tonight is about all of you as much as it is about what we’ve accomplished. We never could have done this without you. I, for one, am very grateful.”

  I let the applause settle before I continue. “My husband and I have known Owen Taylor since college. We were roommates with the man for years and didn’t kill him.”

  I smile, pausing for the laughter. “He’s not just our best friend—he’s adopted family to both of us. He’s a good man, which is why I didn’t hesitate to say yes when he asked me to run as his lieutenant governor. And I cannot begin to tell you how proud I am to stand here before you tonight and be the one with the honor and privilege of introducing to you the governor of our great state of Florida…Governor Owen Taylor.”

  I have no words to express how powerfully that hits me, saying it like that.

  I blink back unexpected tears.

  Owen’s eyes are fixed only on me through the applause. He stands, waving as he approaches and steps up on the stage to take the microphone from me, pecking me on the cheek as he does.

  “Thank you, Ma’am,” he silently mouths to me with his back turned to the room. I step out of the spotlight and return to the table to stand next to Carter, clapping with the rest of the audience.

  I know Owen’s a little choked up, but he’s got this. He’s rehearsed this speech dozens of times with me and Carter and Dray, and he knows it by heart.

  “Thank you, everyone. Thank you. Before I say anything, I want to thank my best friend, Carter Wilson, for his years of love, friendship, and support.” He smiles down at Carter, who’s wearing that smirk. Carter tips his head in a nod that both Owen and I know has silent meaning.

  Love you, boy.

  I’m so proud of you.

  You did good.

  “I’d also like to thank Carter for letting me borrow my other best friend, Susa, for the next four to eight years. I couldn’t have done this without her, either. Or without all of you. Dad, Mom.”

  That means his step-mom, Katie, and is a deliberate dig at Owen’s mother, who isn’t here tonight because Owen has no contact with her anymore.

  “Senator and Doctor Evans. Lieutenant Colonel and Mrs. Wilson. Our family and friends. Everyone stepped in to support me and help me and encourage me, and that humbles me.

  “I never want to forget why we’re here, or what we’re here to do, or the fact that I’m not a governor only to the people who checked the box by my name. I’m the governor of Florida, of all its residents, regardless of how they voted or what party they’re registered under.

  “Tonight is truly the start of the next stage of my life. I’d be lying if I said I’m not nervous. I’m not going to let that stop me, though. I’m going to remember this feeling and use it to make sure I weigh every action I take, every decision I make as governor, so I know that it’s what’s in the best interest of our state. Even if it’s an unpopular decision.

  “I’m not going to pander to some mythical ‘base’ that doesn’t exist. I think the fact that we got elected as Independents means that there are voters on both sides of the aisle who are as tired of politics as usual as we were when we decided to run. I’m looking forward to working with lawmakers from both parties—and the growing number of Independents who are choosing to run outside the usual party lines—to make our state even better. Thank you, and let’s dance!”

  Thunderous applause fills the room. Someone takes the mic from Owen. As our boy descends from the stage, Carter leads me out from behind the table, holding my hand. When we meet Owen at the bottom of the steps and the orchestra starts playing, Carter makes a point of handing me over to Owen with a smile and a flourish, bowing from the waist and making both of us laugh.

  I step into Owen’s arms, and we’re dancing to the orchestra playing Next to Me by Imagine Dragons as a girl from the choir sings the opening lyrics before the rest of the choir chimes in.

  Owen picked this song. It was one of the details they held back from me, Owen wanting it to be a surprise. It’s one of his favorites, one of Carter’s favorites. Somehow, I manage not to cry. I also force myself not to press my body against his like we’ve danced in private countless times. He’s wearing a smile and silently singing along with the words as we slowly sway in time with the music.

  I stare up into his gorgeous green eyes and smile. “I’m proud of you, O.”

  He smiles. “Thank you, Ma’am.”

  As we dance, I’m aware that Carter has started dancing with his mother. Daddy and Momma, as well as Gerard and Katie, are dancing, too. Carter hands his mother off to one of his older brothers, because his father can barely walk due to his arthritis and begged off dancing. Then Carter walks over to us to cut in, as was planned. Owen’s supposed to dance with Katie next.

  But instead of
handing me off to Carter, Owen grins, grabs Carter, and leaves me standing there wide-eyed and laughing as he spins off across the floor with Carter in his arms to a chorus of laughter and applause from everyone who’s actually paying attention. It looks like nothing more than a couple of old buddies screwing around. They make their way back to me, Owen giving Carter a long, strong hug and the two of them clapping each other on the back before Owen hands him off to me with a flourish and a deep bow from the waist, just to earn more laughter from the audience.

  Our boy.

  As Carter and I dance, he’s still smirking and glancing over at Owen, who’s now talking to Senator Samuels.

  “Did you know he was going to do that?” I softly ask, keeping my lips as still as possible.

  “No.” He chuckles. “I should have known he’d do something.” From the playful gleam in Carter’s eyes, I can tell Owen didn’t earn any punishment strokes for that stunt.

  The bastard extraordinaire is happy Owen got to share that little bit of joy with him, right out in the open in front of everyone.

  Owen got to dance with both of us.

  I’ll happily take the win, and, apparently, so will Carter.

  Personally, we get so few public chances like that, it means we savor and treasure them when they do happen.

  We dance and talk, and I take a break to make the rounds again, as does Owen. At one point, I get a moment to hug Rebecca Soliz Martin, who, with her husband and father, were special guests of ours tonight. Her father is an old, dear friend of Daddy’s, and a good friend of the family.

  Of course I wasn’t going to cut them out of this celebration. She’s given us valuable advice through the years, especially for Owen’s first run for office, for a seat on the Hillsborough County Commission. Years ago, when we were both kids, Rebecca and I used to share a tent together during camping trips with our fathers and their friends. She’s only a few years older than I am. I suspect it’s no coincidence we both ended up in politics, she as a consultant and strategist, me as a politician.