Pursuit of Happiness

by Carsen Taite

  The timing was suspect, but none of her thoughts squared with the Stevie she thought she knew. She wanted to call her, ask her what was going on, but her attorney brain said it was a bad idea. A few days ago, she would’ve ignored the practical voice in her head, but she was already feeling the consequences of not paying attention to the full implications of her actions. She’d hurt Stevie, and she’d caused a major distraction for her campaign. Now that she was faced with a real disaster, it was time to focus and listen to the one voice she could trust. “Jen?”

  Jen looked up with a satisfied smile on her face, and Meredith felt a twinge of regret for what she was about to do. “I need to talk to Gordon. Alone.”

  Jen’s smile faded, but she didn’t protest. She walked out the door with a respectable display of dignity. When the door shut behind her, Meredith sat down and met Gordon’s eyes. “We’re going to do this your way from here on out. I’m not going to fire Jen outright because of how it will look, but she is going to recede from the campaign to handle the workload at the Senate office while I’m campaigning.”

  Gordon nodded. “Do you want to tell her or should I?”

  “I’ll take care of it later today. Go ahead and prepare my statement, and let me know where you think we should give it.”

  “Your first appearance this morning is down the street from the Miami-Dade County Courthouse which will look nice framed in the background. We’ll park near the courthouse and have you stop and give the statement as you walk down the street. You’ll need to have it memorized so it doesn’t look like a photo op.”

  “You’re kind of scary good at this.”

  “I learned from the best.” Gordon tapped his fingers against the arm of his chair. “About Stevie…”

  “What about her?”

  “No need to growl, I just wonder if maybe you should say something to address your relationship. Get it out of the way. There are bound to be questions, more so now that she’s tied to the investigation of the Foundation.”

  “Gordon, I’m going to say this once. You have full rein over every aspect of this campaign, but Ms. Palmer doesn’t fall under the category of campaign-related issues. No statement, no questions.”

  He stared at her for a moment. “Got it.” He stood. “I’m going to get to work on the stuff we can talk about. I’ll meet you downstairs in half an hour.”

  Meredith walked him to the door and sagged against it as it closed behind him. She was both relieved and disappointed that the campaign was barreling forward so fast she barely had time to think. Her entire family was going to think she’d lost her mind when she fired Jen from the campaign, but she knew it was the right thing to do. Maybe if she’d done this from the very beginning, Stevie would still be talking to her and they’d have a chance to build on the intimacy they’d shared.

  She had no idea, but she did know that if she was going to survive today’s news, she would need to put serious distance between her campaign and everything personal in her life, and that included her family and Stevie Palmer.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Super Tuesday II

  “Are you sure you want to watch this?”

  Stevie looked up from the TV to see Hannah staring at her with a concerned expression, and, not for the first time, she thought she might have overstayed her welcome. She’d been camped out in Hannah’s guest room for the past two weeks, hoping with each passing day that the press would finally get tired of stalking her house. It wasn’t much better at the office, but at least Hannah and Dave lived in a gated community, which meant the reporters weren’t able to follow her all the way home. Home. As welcoming as Hannah and Dave had been, this wasn’t home, and she couldn’t hide out here forever. “I should go.”

  Hannah settled onto the couch beside her. “Nobody said anything about you going anywhere.” She pointed at the TV where the primary election returns were starting to come in. “I’m just not sure you want to put yourself through watching this. Predictions are it’s not going to go well for her tonight.”

  Stevie knew Hannah was right. She’d read the headlines on every major news site. Hell, she’d been more obsessed with election news in the days following the allegations against the Mitchell Foundation, than she had been when she was dating one of the candidates. But she couldn’t stop. It was as if by consuming all the information she could access, she could keep some connection to Meredith, however tenuous. “I have to see it,” she said. “But I can go to my room and stream it on my iPad if you’d rather not.”

  Hannah shook her head. “Nope. I’m in this with you. Dave had to work late, but he left us sandwiches for dinner. Don’t say you’re not hungry.”

  “I won’t say it.” Stevie managed a smile. She knew Hannah was only trying to help, but she’d lost so much lately—her privacy, her connection to Meredith—that the loss of her appetite seemed like such a small thing. “I might be convinced to eat if there’s roast beef and horseradish involved.”

  “You got it.” Hannah stood. “I’ll be right back.”

  “Wait.” Stevie pointed to the television where the anchor sat at the desk and the breaking news banner was flashing. “Results are starting to come in.” She motioned for Hannah to join her on the couch. “Stay, please?”

  Hannah settled back onto the sofa, and Stevie held tight to her hand as the news anchor adjusted his tie, and started reading from the prompter.

  “We have the results of the North Carolina and Florida primaries, and, as expected, the tide has turned against Senator Meredith Mitchell, who up until two weeks ago, was favored to win the Democratic primary in both states. We are prepared to announce that Governor Jed Lankin has won the majority of delegates in both states, making a rousing comeback from the first Super Tuesday, earlier this month. Stay tuned because we still have several states in play tonight, and—”

  Stevie released Hannah’s hand and fumbled for the remote, punching the off button before he could say more. She’d heard enough.

  “It’s not your fault.”

  “On some level, I know you’re right, but part of me wonders how much of this,” she pointed at the now silent television, “is because of the news about the Mitchell Foundation, and how much is fallout from the whole does she, doesn’t she have a girlfriend? Maybe it’s some of both, and maybe we never should’ve gotten involved in the first place.”

  “That’s a lot of maybes. Maybe you should hand Barkley off to some other lawyer, and talk to Meredith about what happened. See if you can work things out.”

  Hannah’s idea sounded so simple, but Stevie had played through the various scenarios dozens of times. “If I claim a conflict now, no one in the public defender’s office would be able to represent him, and Soloman would have to appoint some random lawyer on the wheel to take over. Emily would throw a fit because I swore I didn’t have a conflict, and she could wind up taking it out on Barkley. Besides, Barkley only just started talking to me. I can’t take the chance he’ll clam up again if he gets assigned to someone new.” What she didn’t add was that the damage was done. If tonight’s primary results were any indication, Meredith’s bid to become the Democratic nominee was in serious jeopardy, and directly or not, she was to blame. Meredith might be able to find a way to win the nomination, but when it came to their relationship, it was over. So over.

  * * *

  Meredith sat in her hotel suite in Miami and tried not to focus on the differences between tonight and the first Super Tuesday two weeks earlier, but the contrast was glaring. Jen was back in DC instead of at her side. There was a small bar service, but no champagne on ice. The mood in the room was somber, and although she knew they were trying to hide it, Gordon and the few campaign staffers—a much smaller crowd than usual—were having a whispered conversation about how to tweak her stump speech for tonight in light of the fact it looked like she was about to lose most of the primary elections that had been held today.

  All of these things were bad, but when she added in the void left by S
tevie’s absence, she wanted to quit—the race, the senate, anything to do with public life—and retreat to her apartment in New York.

  And then she remembered that wasn’t a safe place either.

  She hadn’t stayed at her apartment since the night she’d spent with Stevie, but the memory of Stevie naked in her bed was still vivid in her mind, tugging at all the thoughts she had about duty and obligation, pulling strings from the tightly woven life she’d sewn together. What would have happened if Jen hadn’t tipped off the press about Stevie? What if the majority leader hadn’t called a vote that morning? She would’ve slept in with Stevie, perhaps making love to her again in the light of day, the two of them enjoying precious, uninterrupted time away from the demands of both their careers.

  Maybe if they’d had more time together to lay a stronger foundation, Stevie wouldn’t have broken things off. And if they were still together, then Stevie would’ve had to withdraw from William Barkley’s case. And if she’d had to withdraw, then… Then she would’ve resented you for having to compromise her career on your behalf.

  Meredith sighed. She knew it didn’t matter who the defense attorney was on Barkley’s case. The news about the connection to the Mitchell Foundation had been bound to come out. Better that someone with Stevie’s integrity be involved with the case than a stranger who might have some political motive to take her down. Although it looked like she might be going down no matter what if tonight’s results were any indication.

  “They’re about to call Illinois,” one of the interns called out, pointing at the screen.

  Meredith froze and stared at the TV, not wanting to look, but scared to shy away. This was the last race tonight, and the state had been heavily favored to go her way. If it didn’t, she wasn’t sure—

  “You won!” yelled a voice from behind her, but she couldn’t stop staring at the screen. It wasn’t much—one state out of five—but it was better than a big fat zero for the night.

  Gordon walked over to her side. “Illinois is a big deal.”

  “You’re just saying that to try to pump me up.”

  He answered by clapping his hands together, loudly. “Rebecca, I need you to head to the press room.” He handed her a sheet of paper. “Here are your talking points. Everyone else, clear out. I need a moment with the senator.”

  There was some mumbling as they filed out, but Meredith barely paid attention, relieved at the idea of being alone. Or at least somewhat alone. When the last person out shut the door, she collapsed on the couch. “I assume you want to go over the speech?”

  He shook his head. “No speeches today. You’ll make a brief statement downstairs, but first I have my own set of talking points just for you. Are you ready to hear them?”

  “Sure. This night couldn’t get much worse.”

  “Actually, you’re wrong. You could’ve lost Illinois. And you might lose more states in the next few weeks. You still have several really big races ahead of you, including Washington, New York, Maryland, Pennsylvania, Wisconsin, and campaign donations are already under goal. If you lose the majority of these upcoming races, you’re toast.”

  “Way to give a pep talk.”

  “You don’t need a pep talk, what you need is a kick in the butt. Yes, you took a beating tonight, but in light of the recent news cycle, it could’ve been worse. And it could still get a lot worse unless you’re willing to do what it takes to stop the bleeding. Right now.”

  Meredith sat up straight at the commanding tone in Gordon’s voice. He was right, the road ahead was laced with pitfalls, but her life felt so out of control she wasn’t sure how to maneuver around the obstacles and finish on top. “I’m listening.”

  “I have a plan, and it starts with us becoming a leaner and much more efficient operation. You’re going to have a different stump speech for every city you visit over the course of the next month if we have to stay up round the clock to get them written. The press will have so many sound bites from you, they may have to add an extra hour to the day to stay current.

  “You’ve been the frontrunner from the start, and there’s a good reason for that, but it’s time to pull off the gloves and go full force after Lankin’s record. Let the voters know that you may have taken a hit in the news, but you’re not going down without a fight.”

  Meredith stood and started pacing the room, energized by Gordon’s speech. “Tell me what to do.”

  “I will, but first you have to answer one question.”

  “Ask away.”

  “Do you still want this?”

  Meredith froze. The blunt question took her completely by surprise. Did she still want to be president? The abrupt breakup with Stevie, the steady stream of verbal attacks on her family, the inability to walk down the street without being swarmed by press all represented only a small taste of what was to come. If she won, she’d live the next four to eight years of her life surrounded by other people, but completely alone, with any chance at a personal life put on hold. A year ago, she wouldn’t have cared, strong in the belief that government service was a calling, and it was her duty to make whatever sacrifices necessary to rise to the task, but that was before she’d gotten a glimpse of what it could be like to have a future with a smart, sexy woman who liked her in spite of her power and influence, not because of it. What would Stevie say right now if she asked her for advice?

  The answer was clear, telegraphed in the way Stevie plowed ahead with the Barkley case, while never once giving an interview or otherwise divulging a word about the behind the scenes time they’d shared. Stevie was clearly fully focused on her career, and Meredith should follow her lead, sacrificing the personal life she wanted for the professional one that she was destined to fulfill, but she couldn’t help but wonder why she couldn’t have both.

  Chapter Twenty

  July

  Stevie adjusted the hard metal chair so she was closer to the computer screen, but she still couldn’t tell what Barkley was working on. Emily had arranged for him to get extra time with a computer in the break room at the jail so he could examine the files that had been sent to his email account at Folsom in preparation for his testimony before the grand jury that would hear the case against the Mitchell Foundation. Yesterday, he’d summoned Stevie to the jail to show her what he’d found. So far, it was just a big jumble of nonsense.

  “I heard she was your girlfriend,” Barkley said.

  Stevie cursed the day he’d decided to become talkative with her, and she feigned ignorance. “Who?”

  “You know who. The future Madam President. She seems like a nice lady.”

  Stevie considered the description. Yes, Meredith was definitely nice, but that was not one of the descriptors she’d use. She’d tried to avoid seeing her, but every time she turned around, Meredith was on TV, in the paper, on the radio, and she was as attractive as ever, although slight bags under her eyes and a haggard expression were signs she was beginning to experience exhaustion. Meredith’s presence had become even more prevalent this week since the Democratic National Convention was taking place in Baltimore. Some had speculated that Meredith would drop out of the race when the news of the investigation into her family’s foundation came out followed by her stunning primary losses, but she’d stayed in and continued to fight for every delegate vote she could get, seemingly energized by her new role as the underdog. Neither she nor Lankin had a clear margin of victory going into this week, and some were predicting a brokered convention. The news outlets were eating it up with 24/7 analysis and predictions. For her part, Stevie was just glad they’d stopped talking about her for a while.

  “Did you bring me here to talk about my personal life or did you really want to show me something?”

  He motioned to the screen. “I’ll walk you through it.” He pointed. “See this code right here?”

  “Yes.”

  “Those are the IP designators. When email comes into Folsom’s system, it gets tagged with code indicating the time and date and origin of the sen
der.”

  “Like geographic location?”

  “Kind of. We can backtrace what computer it comes from, using the IP address.”

  “Okay.” Stevie didn’t know where this was going, but Barkley seemed intent on explaining it a certain way, and she’d bear with it a bit longer.

  “I looked at the source of the encrypted files and compared them to the designation information for the email addresses in the documents I leaked that got me in this mess to begin with.” He paused to let that sink in. “There were several matches. Whoever sent me these files was one of the hackers that the government decided not to prosecute.”

  Stevie let the concepts rock around in her head for a minute. “So, you’re saying that these hackers, who were peddling influence on social media with impunity, are the same ones who sent you information that supposedly connects them with the Mitchell Foundation?” When he nodded, she shrugged. “Is that really a revelation? I mean, it sounds like maybe they had it out for the Mitchells.”

  “Exactly. Why would they have it out for the Mitchells if the Mitchells were paying them to exert influence? It doesn’t make any sense. The only motivation I can see for this ‘anonymous’ source to send me this information is to hope that I would release it and it would do damage to Mitchell’s chances at the presidency.”