Nothing to Lose

by Angela Winters

  “Erica!” Alex met her at the door with a wide smile on his face and an outstretched hand. “Finally we meet again.”

  Erica shook his hand. He gripped her hand tightly and led her into the house.

  The inside of the house was just as Erica expected it to be. It was English-style with old, expensive things on display and mostly everything was white. The foyer was wide, with a white-and-gray-speckled marble floor, which led into a hallway through the middle, and a winding black staircase to the right. It was very moneyed D.C.

  “Erica?” Alex asked. “Are you okay?”

  Erica blinked, not realizing that she had frozen in place in the foyer. Alex was a few feet ahead of her, seeming surprised that she still wasn’t following him.

  “Um . . .” Erica rushed to catch up with him. “Yeah, I’m fine. I’m just . . . It’s a nice house.”

  “Everything here is nice,” he said, leading her toward the back of the house. “I envy the kids who grew up here.”

  “Where did you grow up?” Erica asked.

  “Herndon,” he said. “You’re from D.C., right? Jonah told me that you were.”

  She wondered what else Jonah was telling people about her. “How long have you known him?”

  “Come in here,” he said.

  They entered the kitchen, which looked newly remodeled with white cabinets and red granite countertops and stainless-steel appliances everywhere. It was way too spacious for an original kitchen, so Erica assumed either room had been added or another room had been knocked out to expand it. There were five people working there, with plenty of room among them.

  “Take this.” He handed her a bottle of water. “You can come back here for snacks, but there’s a whole spread in the formal dining room. We’re going to wait until after Jonah gives his big speech to the team before eating that.”

  “Sounds good. I’m not that hungry yet.” Erica knew she wasn’t being that expressive, but she was feeling weird walking through this house. Alex’s words about being jealous of the kids who grew up there pressed a button somewhere in her.

  “My mom was a housekeeper for his sister, Emma, but after I was born, my mom stopped working for her. My dad died when she was pregnant with me. After that, she just needed to start a new life.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” she said.

  Erica always felt compassion when meeting other people who also had grown up without their fathers. Maybe that was why she felt she and Alex had a lot in common.

  “Thanks,” Alex said. “My mom went on to work for someone else, but she stayed friends with Emma. So I met him a few times as a friend whenever I was at Emma’s house and he came over. But then I went off to boarding school.”

  “You went to private school?” Erica realized how rude she sounded as she said it, but most kids of maids don’t go to boarding schools.

  “I got a scholarship to a school in New York,” he said. “Then I went to Columbia. I’ve only been back for four years, but Jonah was totally cool with offering me this job after hearing I was working on Capitol Hill.”

  “You know I have no campaign experience at all,” she said.

  He nodded. “I’m not worried. Jonah said you’re great at organizing things, a skill we’ll desperately need as events and schedules get more complicated. I’m gonna get you started on the grunt work. Come with me.”

  She turned as they left the kitchen, down a hallway.

  He explained as they walked. “In the study down here, staffers are putting together mailers for fund-raising. That should be enough for—”

  “Alex!”

  Running up to them was a blond girl holding a phone out to Alex as she approached. “It’s ABC, and Stephen isn’t around. Who handles the media when he’s not around?”

  “Eliza, I think.” Alex took the phone from her. “Not sure. Hey, Erica, you can head down to the room on the right, at the end of the hall. I’ll catch up with you in a bit.”

  “Okay.” Erica watched him rush off with the girl before she turned and headed for the hall.

  “So you showed up.”

  Erica stopped at the sound of the slurred voice. She turned to her left to see Juliet Nolan standing in the doorway to what looked like a guest bath. Juliet was held together very well for a woman in her fifties who, Erica got the impression, had been drinking a lot for a long time. That was what money could do for you.

  She was drab, but in a blue-blooded sort of way that still had an appeal. Her blue eyes were a little glassy and she wore practically no makeup. She had her blond hair in an updo; her pink button-down shirt was tucked tightly into white jeans. The only thing sparkling about her was the expensive pearl earrings and necklace she wore.

  Erica had never had a good encounter with this woman. She could tell from the way Juliet was looking at her now, and the glass of wine she held in her hand, that this would be no different.

  Jonah had told her from the beginning that Juliet knew about Erica being his daughter. He’d trusted her and told her. According to Jonah, she was the only person he’d ever told. She encouraged him to keep this a secret for his career. According to Jonah, it was cloaked in a play at concern for Erica’s best interest. Erica could just imagine this woman pretending to care that going public would be hard on her. She didn’t give a damn about Erica. The truth was, she didn’t want her perfect family soiled and her chances to get into the White House compromised by his black love child.

  In the past, Juliet had pretty much ignored Erica, except for the occasional chance to give her the evil eye. Erica had hoped that trend could continue.

  “Do you even care how dangerous it is that you’re here?” Juliet asked. The one hand that wasn’t holding her wineglass was placed on her trim hip.

  “I think you need to discuss that with Jonah” was all Erica said.

  “I’ve tried to,” Juliet countered. “But you’ve convinced him to keep you around.”

  “I’ve convinced him?” Erica had to laugh. “Is that what he’s told you, or is that what you’ve decided to believe?”

  Juliet leaned toward Erica, her face only inches from hers. “Just know that I don’t want you here. I’ve worked my ass off for this chance, and I’m not letting you mess it up for me.”

  Erica didn’t move or blink. The scent of superiority emanating from this woman was only overpowered by the alcohol on her breath. Did she actually think she was intimidating her? Did she have any idea where Erica came from? She’d faced five-year-olds tougher than this prissy lush.

  “Juliet.”

  Juliet seemed startled when Jonah showed up in the hallway. Erica observed her as she seemed to try and pull herself together as he joined them. She was nervous, Erica could tell. She’d probably promised to behave; but after a couple of glasses of Pinot Grigio, she wasn’t as in control as she’d thought.

  “What are you doing?” Jonah asked her accusingly.

  Erica watched as his eyes seared into Juliet’s, not hiding his anger. She looked away and cleared her throat. Then she turned back to him with something resembling puppy dog eyes.

  “It’s nothing, dear,” she said sweetly.

  “It didn’t sound like nothing,” Jonah complained.

  “I knew you’d take her side,” Juliet curtly snapped. “She’s going to ruin everything.”

  Looking as if she was about to get hysterical, Juliet turned and ran toward the kitchen. Jonah looked at Erica. She could see a sort of apology in his eyes, but also a look of helplessness. In that one look, Erica knew what their entire marriage was made of. It was kind of sad, and she felt sorry for him, even though he was an unabashed cheater.

  “We’ll talk later,” he said, before turning to rush after his wife.

  “That’s a mess,” Erica whispered to herself as she watched him quickly walk away.

  He was only a few feet away when Alex appeared again in the hallway. He didn’t look at Jonah walk past him. He was just looking at Erica and she knew why. He’d seen the whole thin
g. But what did he hear?

  “What was that about?” he asked as he approached.

  Erica shrugged. “I think she’s a little tipsy. I stay out of things that aren’t my business.”

  “Just make sure you stay away from her,” Alex said. “I know I do.”

  “You do?” she asked. “Why?”

  “I don’t know her that well,” Alex said. “She never came by Emma’s house when Jonah did. But my mom didn’t like her. She said she wasn’t a nice person and I should keep my distance.”

  “I’m not afraid of her,” Erica said.

  “Afraid?” Alex looked confused. “Why would you say that? Look, we’ll both keep an eye out and give each other a heads-up whenever she’s coming around. Deal?”

  “Deal.” She smiled as they bumped fists.

  Sherise was having an unusually slow start this morning. After last night’s argument with Justin, he’d come home and slept in the guest room. He was gone by the time she’d gotten up that morning and it was making her heart ache. This was all her fault. As usual, she had gotten a hot head. Instead of just telling him what had upset her, she attacked him. They’d gone over this in therapy, but Sherise obviously couldn’t learn her lesson. She had to figure some way to apologize to him and fix this, and she had to figure out how to get Elena’s ass away from her husband.

  However, she couldn’t do that without her morning coffee. As Sherise headed to the kitchen area of the office, her nosy nature stopped her. A man, looking shady as hell, in her opinion, was following LaKeisha into her office just a few doors down. He was white, rotund, with balding white hair, wearing jeans and a leather jacket.

  After LaKeisha closed the door behind them, Sherise rushed over to Amy Griffin, who was LaKeisha’s assistant. Amy sat at the desk closest to LaKeisha’s office.

  “Who is that?” Sherise asked.

  She felt it was better just to come out with what she wanted to know. It usually held more weight than beating around the bush. She wasn’t a consultant anymore. She was in a power position now and was going to use that if she needed.

  “I’m told he’s no one,” Amy responded, with a rolling of her eyes.

  Amy Griffin was a mousy, ponytailed twentysomething, with a face that looked like she’d just tasted a lemon.

  “Well, then,” Sherise said, “who is ‘no one’? He looks shady.”

  “He is shady,” Amy responded. “All PI types are.”

  “He’s a private investigator?” Sherise asked, her antenna lighting up.

  Amy nodded. “I didn’t tell you anything, but LaKeisha hired him to get some dirt on Jonah Nolan.”

  “What’s his name?”

  “His name is Jonathan T. No last name, just T. That’s your first clue.”

  “Who does he work for?”

  “Apparently, himself,” Amy answered. “I asked for some paperwork to send to Livia, you know, to pay him like we do all consultants, but LaKeisha was, like, no, she would pay him.”

  “All our funds have to be accounted for,” Sherise said. “She doesn’t want any paper trails leading back to him.”

  “Or us,” Amy added. “And you can’t tell Northman. He’s not supposed to know about this. Whatever this guy does, I get the feeling that he doesn’t always follow the law. LaKeisha said Northman can’t ever know about him.”

  “That’s not smart,” Sherise said. “She should have met him somewhere remote. He’s been brought to our offices now. Northman officially knows him.”

  Sherise was disappointed in LaKeisha’s rookie move, but she was more concerned about this PI. He was looking for dirt. He was looking for her. Sherise had to find out what Erica had learned so far. First, though, she had to find out everything she could about Jonathan T. Would these new problems ever stop coming?

  Billie’s second date with Michael was going great so far. It was a Thursday-night movie outdoors at Capitol Riverfront, an area in Southeast D.C., between Capitol Hill and the Anacostia River. Every Thursday night, starting in May through August, the site was host to a movie on a large screen in front of a large park sitting area. It was a growing, developing area near the Washington Nationals baseball stadium, which looked very different now than it did when Billie was a young girl growing up nearby.

  Michael had been prepared with a blanket and a basket filled with food, including two wine glasses and a bottle of Pinot to share during a viewing of Raiders of the Lost Ark. It wasn’t the most romantic movie, Billie thought, but Michael more than made up for that with a spread of roasted chicken, dill potato salad, bacon-wrapped asparagus, and bread. He didn’t try for a second to fake it, admitting right away that he’d picked up the whole set, including the tote it came in, at a catering company before arriving at her doorstep.

  There was less talking than on the first date, just some whispering about the movie and chitchat. Although she had already done so, she thanked him again for the small painting he’d sent her.

  They began the evening sitting up, but soon were lying down on the blanket. There had been a foot or so of distance between them during most of the movie as their food was placed there. After they’d eaten, Michael removed the plates and uneaten food back to the black-and-blue argyle tote bag. At some point during the evening, that gap got smaller and smaller.

  Billie wasn’t sure how it happened—whether it was she or Michael who had moved—but at the point when Indiana Jones was warning the Nazis not to open the Ark, their shoulders touched. Her gaze left the large screen in front of them and went down to the blanket. She felt a definite spark, despite the tenderness of the connection. Billie let herself smile in a way he could clearly see, even though she wasn’t so sure that was something she should give away so quickly. There was a moment of silence, which seemed painstakingly long to Billie, before Michael whispered to her.

  “Sorry” was all he said as he pulled away a little.

  The sound of his voice, deep and low, sent a tingling sensation through her. It took her a moment to gather the nerve to look at him. She was scared she’d give away how much she wanted his shoulder touching hers again, how much she wanted to hear him speak in that deep, Southern voice.

  When she did turn her head slowly to him, he was looking at her with a very serious look on his face. Was it the dimly lit night, or was this man getting more handsome every time she looked at him? Billie felt her breath catch a little. She swallowed hard before managing a polite smile.

  “It’s okay,” she said, speaking in a voice pitched higher than she’d hoped.

  To Billie’s disappointment, the movie only lasted another half hour. She wanted at least another hour of not-so-accidental shoulder brushes and nervous laughs at scenes that weren’t actually intended to be funny.

  When the credits began to run, everyone around them—the people Billie had forgotten were even there—began to get up. Chatter lifted and it was suddenly very loud.

  “I guess it’s time to head on out,” Michael said, his voice showing a hint of reluctance, much to Billie’s pleasure.

  “Yeah,” Billie said as she started to get up. “We should probably get . . .”

  Maybe it was lying in one position for so long that made her legs weak, having a couple of glasses of wine, or just plain clumsiness, but Billie stumbled before she was even halfway up and went flying toward the ground.

  “Whoa!” Michael said as he reached out for her.

  Humiliated, Billie banged right into him, landing in his arms, which he used to grasp her and keep her from doing more damage. She felt her whole body flush with the heat of embarrassment. As soon as she turned to him with the intent of apologizing, that heat changed to something else entirely.

  His eyes lowered to her lips as his opened just a bit. Billie felt a pull in her stomach, which was noticeable desire, as she lifted her mouth to his. When his lips came down on hers, she let out a little whimper. It was soft and tender, slowly deepening with intensity as her body began heating up like an inferno.

  She
felt shivers as his hand came around and began to caress her bare arm. Then he grabbed her more firmly and pulled her closer to him.

  Billie brought her hand to his chin as she cupped it and immersed herself in the mastery of his lips. His lips were soft and he worked them seductively, making her feel this kiss throughout her entire body.

  It wasn’t until she heard some whistling from the exiting crowd around them that Billie realized that they were full-on making out in public. She lightly made distance between them and leaned away. Their eyes caught in that moment and he seemed to realize the same,just a little later than she had.

  “It’s my turn to apologize,” she said.

  “Why would you?” he asked, letting her go. “That was great. Or maybe I’m speaking too soon.”

  “That kiss?” She smiled as she sat up. “Yes, that was, um . . . fantastic, but I meant for falling for you. No, I mean on you . . . for falling on you . . . again.”

  He sat up and faced her. “You’re tiny, Billie. I barely felt anything. Well, I wouldn’t say that I didn’t feel anything, but it certainly wasn’t pain.”

  She laughed and slapped him on the arm; that was the only thing she could think of to deal with the discomfort of her attraction to him and tripping over her own words. Billie thought it was a stupid move and imagined he was probably already regretting kissing a high-school girl who couldn’t complete a full sentence.

  “So you’re okay with what just happened?” he asked, his eyes holding a little uncertainty.

  “Haven’t been that okay with something in a long time,” Billie answered, feeling refreshed at not feeling the need to cover up anything.

  He smiled in a very satisfied way. “Good, because I’ve been wanting to do that since that first time we met on the train. I thought at that moment, when I caught you, ‘Man, I want to kiss this girl.’ But I figured you’d slap me and have me arrested.”