Grace and I stayed in New York until Jake swept her off her feet and offered me a killer gig I couldn’t turn down. Somewhere along the way, we added Cara. I wouldn’t trade these women for anything in the world. They’re more my family than the one I was born into. How crazy is that? Where Grace was raised by loving pacifists with law degrees, I was raised by wolves with grand political aspirations. Not for me, mind you. I’m just supposed to make a strong alliance for my family and breed the next generation. My brother, Gil, however, is being groomed for a political career. But that’s neither here nor there.
My rambling thoughts are interrupted by a knock at the door, and I pause the movie. I get up and answer with a smile on my face, taking the delivery kid by surprise. I notice my front lawn is a lot thinner in terms of camped-out news vans, but there are still some there.
“Thanks,” I tell him, taking my paper bag full of deliciousness. I wave to the last of the news crews and head inside.
I shut and lock the door behind me and head into the living room. I drop my bag on the coffee table and then make my way into the kitchen to grab a glass of water. I settle in on the sofa and hit Play on my movie again.
I open the bag and separate my chopsticks before I start building my dinner on a plate. I shovel bite after bite into my mouth and try to watch the movie, but the whole time, I can hear my phone buzzing like a swarm of bees on the stone counter in the next room.
I can’t take it anymore, so I set my plate down on the coffee table and make my way into the kitchen. My phone, which had stopped ringing while I walked into the room, starts again. And, also again, it’s my mother.
I swipe my finger across the cool glass of the screen and answer, “Hello?”
“Well, it’s about time,” my mother snaps from across the line. “When I call you, I expect you to answer.”
I hate when she talks to me like this. I am thirty-three years old, not five. I have a successful career and have financially supported myself for years. While I have a large trust fund from grandparents who are long since gone from this world, I do not touch it. It sits in the bank. So I have no idea, and I never have, why she would think she could and should speak to me this way. And quite frankly, I don’t have the patience for it tonight.
“And I expect you to not give false information to the media about me,” I reply. Even I’m impressed with how I keep my tone of voice even and sounding a little unimpressed but not excitable.
She pauses for a minute before she gasps. “How dare you speak to me like that? I’m your mother!”
“And I’m your daughter.”
“And you finally did something useful in your life for once,” she retorts, and as she does, she sinks the blade of her words deep into my flesh and bone. “I don’t know what you did to catch Senator Chancellor’s eye, but thank God you finally did something. Your brother, Gil, could use a strong political ally.”
“Well, Gil is going to have to keep looking for one,” I say quietly. “I won’t be able to bridge that gap for him.”
“What did you say?” she asks, and her voice is cold as ice.
“I said I won’t be able to bridge that gap for Gil. He’s going to have to make his own connections.”
“I don’t care what you have to do to get back in the senator’s good graces, but hear me, and hear me now—you are going to fucking do it,” she snarls.
“I absolutely will not,” I reply. “And you shouldn’t ask me to. He’s old enough to be my grandfather.”
“I don’t care if he’s old enough to be your great-grandfather,” she snaps back, and I wonder when the venom this woman spews at me regularly will stop surprising me. “And I’m not asking. I’m telling. And I’m telling you that if you have to get on your knees and suck a wrinkly old cock that belongs to a man who is old enough to be your grandfather, you damn well will do it to help your brother.”
“I think we’re done here,” I snap.
“We’re done when I say we’re done, and that’s when you agree to do what you’re told,” she says.
She continues to wax poetic about what a disappointment I am, but I don’t listen anymore. I can’t. I pull my phone away from my ear and press the red button to end the call. Then I thumb through my contacts and block her number. Then I scroll through and block my dad’s numbers as well.
I set my phone down on the kitchen counter and walk back into the living room. I look at my plate and feel what I ate churning in my stomach with the taste of sawdust in my mouth. I have absolutely no appetite anymore. I scoop up the remains of my forgotten meal and walk them to the kitchen trash. I stomp on the little pedal harder than I need to, and the lid flings open. I drop everything in except for my plate, which I walk to the sink.
I turn off the lights, and against my better judgement, I grab my phone from the counter. There are no missed calls since I blocked my parents’ numbers. Not even Ryan. Disappointment courses through me. And I scoff at myself in disgust as I take the stairs. What a sad state my life has become: wanting affection from a man who doesn’t want me and praise and approval from parents who will give none. I’m a thirty-three-year-old disappointment on all fronts.
Well, not anymore.
I toss my phone on the bed and head into my closet to strip off my sweater. I throw it toward the bench, but it hits the floor, and I do not care one bit about it. I shimmy my leggings down my legs and toss them in the same direction, and then I reach behind my back and unstrap my bra. I pull it through the straps of my camisole and then launch it to the bench.
I walk out of my closet and into the bathroom, brush my teeth, and scrub my face again. I turn out all the lights, pull the covers back, and climb in. I let myself curl up on my side and clutch the blankets just in time for the first sob to bubble up from my chest. One tear after another roll down my cheeks, and I feel from somewhere in the bedding my phone buzz with another incoming call.
“What now?”
I find it in the dark and swipe my finger across the screen. “Hello?”
There’s silence, and I wonder if the person hung up, but then Ryan’s slow, southern drawl rumbles across the line. “Baby, are you all right?”
Another sob hitches in my chest. And then another.
“Jules? Honey, I need you to answer me.”
“No,” I whisper my truth. “I’m not okay. But I will be.”
“Jules—” he starts, but I don’t let him finish.
“What do you want?” I ask.
“I want to know what the fuck happened today to make you not okay?” Ryan’s voice is a brook-no-bullshit tone I’m sure makes other Marines jump into action.
“Nothing.” I sigh.
“Jules, the truth. Now.”
“It is the truth,” I sort of lie. “Today was nothing new.”
“So you’ve always been engaged to a seventy-five-year-old man?” he asks casually after a beat.
“You knew.”
“I didn’t know you were engaged until this afternoon,” he says. “But I knew he was interested in you. He hasn’t exactly been keeping it a secret amongst the White House staff.”
“Eww. Really?”
He laughs. “I take it the news was mistaken?”
“Don’t joke,” I snap. “You know I’m not involved with him. Or anyone. I wouldn’t have slept with you if I was.”
“I had to ask, honey,” he says softly.
“No, you didn’t,” I argue. “You should have just known.”
“I didn’t—” he starts, but I cut him off again.
“But maybe you should have.” I sigh. “Look, Ryan, I’m tired, and I’ve had a really bad day, and I have to do it all over again tomorrow, so I’m going to let you go so I can try to get some sleep.”
“Baby, please,” he begs. “I wish you were in my arms.”
“But I’m not,” I say quietly. “I’m all alone.”
And then I hang up. I let my phone drop down to the sheets next to me. I tuck myself back into my protec
tive ball and close my eyes tight while the stinging behind my eyes hits harder than before. And when I can’t choke it down, I let the tears come again.
And in the dark, I cry myself to sleep, and just like I told Ryan, I do it all alone.
“Global Bill Re-Introduced to House Floor”
Chapter 10
Please be prepared
I’m steaming mad. Truth be told, I’ve been mad since I walked into the offices this morning
A few days later, I rolled out of bed ready to take on the day as I carefully curled my long dark hair to fall in neat waves down my back and dusted a light amount of makeup on my face. Just enough to look good on camera but not so much that I look like I’m trying too hard or unprofessional. I dressed in a red shirt dress with a matching sash belt that ties in a knot. I slipped nude Louboutin heels on my feet and added a slim gold Rolex to my wrist and modest diamond stud earrings. I am who I am, and I will not hide that, but it also doesn’t need to be thrown in people’s faces either.
I sang along to the radio as I drove to the White House, and I smiled at the Marines who guard the offices as I went through the security protocols to enter. I just had this feeling that it was going to be a great day.
And then I walked into the briefing room.
“HB 2250 is being reintroduced to the house floor this morning,” Rick says once everyone is seated around the large conference table. “This time is an even greater donation of power, weapons, and money than before.”
“That’s insane,” someone says, and I can’t help but agree. This bill would be handing over a lot of global power the United States has held for ninety years to a country who has done nothing but act against the U.S.
“And this time, it comes with a trillion-dollar reparations check from the U.S.,” Rick adds.
“You’re kidding. Who would write a bill like that?” I ask.
“That’s the trillion-dollar question, isn’t it?” Jake prompts softly. “Do we have any leads on where this is coming from?”
“The bill is being introduced by Congressman Grissom this morning, but otherwise, we can’t find any ties to him,” Rick shares.
“Aren’t we still technically involved in a conflict with this nation?” I ask.
“Yes, while it’s not a war, per se, we are still involved in a military conflict,” Ryan answers, and I nod while not letting my eyes move from his shoulder.
Ryan and I have not spoken more than two words since our odd phone call a few nights ago. I’m pretty sure he realized, like all men do, that I’m more trouble than I’m worth, and that’s fine with me. I have enough on my plate right now to add a man to complicate the mix. For most of the week, he was laying low, but now, he’s back in the offices.
Lately, there’s something different about him. Like he’s watching me. And I don’t know what to do about it. I cannot acknowledge it, because if I do, I might begin to hope. And I had just begun to hope, when he delivered the kill shot that put the budding affections I held for him recently by making his great escape after I fell asleep. So I can’t let the change in him affect me as he watches me. He can; it’s a free country, and I can’t stop him. But I also don’t have to be a willing participant either.
“So our public response should be…?” I ask as I hold my pen just above my notebook, ready to begin crafting my response to any questions that might come up during the press conference later this morning.
“The president’s stance on HB 2250 has not changed,” Rick said. “And he does not believe that it is in the best interest of the United States and her people.”
“Sounds good.”
I still had hope by the time the meeting is called that this would be a good day. I was wrong. I hadn’t been paying attention when everyone filed out of the briefing room. I was collecting my belongings and lost in my own thoughts about what responses to prep for what questions, so when the door clicked shut a final time, I didn’t look up. I thought I was alone, and I thought wrong then too.
“So are you going to talk to me?” Ryan asks. “Or are we back to the silent treatment?”
My head snaps up and I gasp as he moves into the room and closer to me.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” That’s a lie, I totally do know what he’s talking about; I just didn’t want to talk about it with him, ever. In fact, I was hoping to never need to talk to Ryan ever again, because every time I do he leaves me bleeding, and I’m not sure I’ll survive many more rounds with Captain Ryan Black.
“Sure you do,” he says as he presses closer. “You’re pissed.”
“I’m not,” I lie.
“You are,” he continues. “I laid it out, and you didn’t like it.”
“That, we can agree on,” I mutter.
“And I realized as soon as I left that you were in a shit mood and being way too harsh,” he added.
“Another point for the big man,” I mumble, and the skin around his eyes crinkles in the most handsome way.
“But you haven’t given me an opportunity to apologize,” he finishes.
“Well, consider your apology accepted,” I say as I hold my notebook to my chest like a shield. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
“No.”
“No, what?”
“You’re not excused,” he says.
“And you’re not my teacher,” I snap.
“Baby, there’s a lot of things I’d love to teach you,” I hear him say.
“Well, forget about them. I don’t want to know,” I reply. “I think we’re done here.”
“We’re a long way from done, Jules.”
I don’t wait to hear anything else. I scurry around him and out the door. I’ll hide out for as long as I can and get a new phone number. But what I’m not going to do is entertain more opportunities for heartache from Captain Ryan Black.
I make my way to my office and meet with my staff on the press conference scheduled for the noon hour. Grace’s office called, but we end up playing telephone tag for a while and never get through before it’s time for me to hit the press room.
And I regret ever getting out of bed this morning when I do. But this shit ends now. I am done.
“Good morning,” I greet the associate press as I take the podium. “We’ll make it a quick one this morning, as there is much to do.”
Hands go up and voices clamor all around the room. One voice rings out above the rest. “Why is the president against a bill that could help our country?”
And then another voice shouts, “What are his ulterior motives?”
“Let me stop you all right there,” I say, holding up my hands, palms out. “Let me ask you a few questions. Please raise your hand if the answer is yes. Have any of you read the original House Bill 2250 that the president vetoed several weeks ago? No? Well I have in all of its four hundred and seventy-nine page glory. Have any of you read the updated version that was introduced to the house floor this morning by Congressman Grissom? No again? Well, I have, as my staff and I just spent the bulk of today combing through it, and I can tell you if House Bill 2250 was frightening before, it’s now terrifying, as its sole purpose seems to be to give money, weapons, and power to a nation and its friends who have done nothing but perpetrate violence and acts of terror against the United States and her people. This is not the goodwill gesture you have been sold. I can also assure you the president takes this very seriously, and he and his staff are doing all they can to make sure the American people are safe and protected. So I suggest you all do your homework before you come to me with more asinine questions like these, and next time we meet, please be prepared. Thank you and good day.”
And then I walked out of the press room with the snaps and pops of cameras and the shouts of the associate press trying to get my attention, but they’ve had all they’re going to get from me today. There is a long weekend this weekend, and we are headed to Vegas for Cara and Rick’s wedding “part deux,” as Carter and Grace like to call it. I am ready to take on the
weekend and have a little bit of fun.
What I don’t know now, but I would find out later, is that little bit of fun could cost me everything if I’m not careful.
But then again, some lessons have to be learned the hard way.
“Second Chance Romance? White House Chief of Staff Spotted with Estranged Ex-Wife.”
Chapter 11
Jules’s turn
Las Vegas, Nevada
I’m a little tipsy.
Okay, I’m more than a little tipsy. I’m drunk.
Last week, when Rick told Jake that he was marrying Cara this weekend, Jake told Grace, because that’s apparently what married people do. And then Grace told me, as besties do. And then Grace, Carter, and I planned the Vegas wedding of a lifetime. The theme is Classic Vegas. I had no idea what that was, having been raised on the Upper East Side, but I know class.
The three of us planned every detail.
When Rachel said she wanted pink dresses for her and her mom, we found the most gorgeous rose-gold beaded dress. It’s not the typical wedding dress, but then again, this isn’t your typical wedding. And we topped it with a leather jacket for after that has a rock-and-roll design Cara hand-painted on the back. It’s totally fitting for a fashion stylist to wear after her wedding.
It’s going to be soft candles, music, champagne, and all the people Rick and Cara are close to. And we have a surprise for them. When Rick told us they were married by an Elvis impersonator years ago, we decided that with all the class and style we were giving them, we’d also give them a little Vegas flair and a walk down memory lane at the same time.
We flew in yesterday and hit the ground running to our luxury suites at the Paris Hotel and Casino. Jake couldn’t come with us for obvious reasons. He flew in only an hour ago with his entourage, which is really the groom’s entourage. We brought Cara and Rachel with us. Rachel was having the time of her life with Gus down in the arcade while we made sure all our plans were in place. And they were.
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