Where There's Smoke

by L. A. Witt

  I grinned. “You’re good at this.”

  He laughed. “This is why people pay me.”

  “What about my ring?” I gestured at the gold band beside the bed. “How do we explain it being gone?”

  Anthony shrugged. “You caught your hand in something and your knuckle swelled up. With as much traveling as you do, it wouldn’t exactly be shocking if you snagged your hand on a suitcase handle or slammed your finger in a baggage compartment. It swelled, so you left your ring off for a night. People do it all the time.”

  I rubbed the bridge of my nose. “Jesus. I wanted to go into politics with some semblance of honesty, and I’m down to lying about my fucking ring.”

  “Jesse.” He slipped his arm around my waist and kissed me lightly. “You’re a politician. If this is the biggest lie you tell in your campaign, you’re doing just fine.”

  “Except it isn’t the biggest.”

  He shrugged again. “No, it isn’t. But in the grand scheme of things, this one isn’t worth losing any sleep over.”

  “Which won’t stop me from losing sleep over it.”

  “No, I’m sure it won’t.” He touched my face. “But if there’s any politician out there who has the right to sleep at night with a clear conscience, it’s you.”

  “I’d hate to think what they have on their minds to keep them from sleeping, then.”

  “Jesse.” He tenderly ran the backs of his fingers along my jaw. “You’re not doing anything wrong. You’ve been honest and upfront with your wife. You’ve—”

  “And what about the public?” I nodded sharply toward the damning printout. “Sooner or later, I’m going to have to decide between coming clean and keeping up this charade, with or without Simone, for the rest of my career.”

  “Yeah, you will,” he said softly. “But your heart’s in the right place.” He pointed at my ring. “And for the time being, until the election is over and you decide what you want to do, I would suggest keeping your wedding band in the right place.”

  “On my hand?”

  He nodded.

  I went around the bed and picked up the ring but didn’t put it on just yet. As I came back around to where he stood beside the table, I turned the band between my fingers. “Think I should start wearing it again right away? Or keep up the ‘I fucked up my hand’ act for another day?”

  “Might as well put it back on,” he said, glancing at the ring. “Otherwise everyone will be looking for signs of swelling and all that shit.”

  “Great.” I slipped it on my third finger. Maybe I’d just had it off longer than usual, but I didn’t remember the band ever being so cold. “There.” I flexed my fingers a few times and looked at Anthony. “Now I’m fit to be seen in public.”

  He looked at my hand, something unreadable in his expression. A second later, he shook himself back to life and smiled. “Good. Hopefully that’ll shut everyone up. Just remember, Big Brother’s always watching, but he’s got nothing on the voting public.”

  I laughed and reached for my coffee again. “Joy…” After I’d taken another sip, I looked at my ring once more, turning my hand so the band caught the light. “Amazing how much trouble a little thing like this can stir up.”

  “Anything can stir up trouble in your line of work,” he said. “And this is definitely something that could ignite a scandal, but as long as you and Simone handle it delicately and do exactly as I say, it’ll quietly blow over.”

  “This is why I have you on board.”

  “Yeah, well,” he said, dropping his gaze, “I’m also the reason you had it off in the first place, so…”

  I stepped closer and put my hand on his waist. “I could have left it on.”

  He met my eyes. “And we could have waited to fuck.”

  “You really think either of us could have waited?”

  We held each other’s gazes for a moment, and to my great relief, a smile finally worked its way onto his lips. He laughed softly and shrugged. “Okay, maybe not. I suppose we could do worse than trying a little restraint, though.”

  “What’s that?”

  He wrapped his arms around me. “No idea,” he murmured. His lips brushed mine, and he added, “I think I knew what it was before I met you, but now…” He kissed me, and any restraint I possessed very nearly deserted me.

  A heartbeat before I would have given in to temptation and dragged him down on the bed that was dangerously close by, I broke the kiss. “Much as I hate to suggest it,” I said, struggling to catch my breath, “now would probably be a good time to implement that whole restraint thing.”

  “Good idea.” He pulled back but didn’t quite let go yet. “We’ll have time for this soon.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Will we, now?”

  “We will.” He grinned. “Don’t know when or where, but soon.”

  “I’m holding you to that.”

  “Please do.”

  After one more painfully brief kiss, we exchanged one last look that promised we would revisit this soon, and Anthony left me to get ready to face the day and the public. I showered, dressed, and headed downstairs, checking once at the door, once at the elevator, and once more in the lobby that I had my wedding ring on.

  The lobby was packed with people. Staffers accumulated from all directions, congregating for the day’s first round of hurry up and wait. Several heads turned as I walked in, and more than a few gazes darted toward my left hand. As I caught up with people, checked in with Anthony, and figured out where I needed to be and when, I was constantly aware of my ring and its visibility. Every time I went to put my hand in my pocket, I hesitated and ultimately decided to leave it out and visible, which of course killed any attempt I’d made to be relaxed or casual. And every time I tried to tell myself I was being paranoid, that no one really noticed or cared, I’d catch someone’s eye just as they craned their neck to look at my ring.

  And I thought being an actor’s kid meant living in a fucking fishbowl.

  While I searched for more coffee, Roger caught up to me.

  “Wearing all the necessities today?” he asked.

  I held up my hand. “Of course.”

  “Good.” He gave a quiet sniff. “Don’t need to give the media anything to comment on.”

  “I know.” I held up my left hand. “Caught my…um…caught my finger in something. Swelled up a bit, so…” I waved the same hand. “Maybe next time I should just put it in a cast so no one has any reason to speculate.”

  “Then they’ll just speculate about what you did to your hand,” he said.

  “Damn it.”

  “Well, just remember you have to keep an eye out for these things,” Roger said. “The public is watching your every move. You take off your ring, they’ll notice.”

  “So I’ve gathered,” I said through my teeth. I loved and admired my uncle, but Jesus Christ, the man could be condescending. Before he could give me any more shit about my ring, I changed the subject. “Have you seen Simone?”

  He nodded toward the other end of the lobby.

  “I need to go talk to her,” I said, taking a step back. “I’ll catch up with you this evening.”

  “Certainly,” he said with a nod, and I turned to go.

  “Morning,” I said to Simone as I approached.

  “Morning, sunshine.”

  “Ready for another day of chaos and craziness?”

  “Oh yeah. Can’t wait.” One eyebrow arched playfully, but her eyes looked worried. “So what happened to your ring yesterday?”

  I cleared my throat. “Just, you know, fucked up my hand. Couldn’t put on my ring.”

  “Mm-hmm.” Simone laughed halfheartedly. Speaking softly so only I could hear her, she said, “The press and the public might buy that line, but you know I won’t.”

  I avoided her eyes.

  She laughed again with more effort and less enthusiasm. “That’s what I thought.” Then she put her hand on my arm, and when I looked at her, she said, “What’s going on… It
’s okay. Really.”

  I dropped my gaze. I didn’t bother asking if she was sure, because I knew she’d tell me she was. This conversation had happened enough times already, and my conscience couldn’t take many more repetitions.

  “Okay,” I finally said. “But…I’m sorry about the ring thing. Drawing attention to everything, I mean.”

  “It happens.” Her cheeks darkened. “Isn’t like they didn’t notice mine being off too.”

  “True. Oh, that reminds me.” I lowered my voice and filled her in on Anthony’s plan for explaining the absence of her ring.

  “Smart man,” she said with a nod. “I’ll take it by Marley’s next time I’m home. This Saturday, probably.”

  “Good,” I said. “Hopefully that’ll shut everyone up.”

  She looked at me and gave a watery smile. “We can hope. Well, it looks like people are waiting for you. ” She gestured past me.

  I turned around, and Ranya held up her car keys, which I’d long ago learned was her way of saying let’s roll. To Simone, I said, “Yeah, better go. I’ll see you at dinner tonight?”

  “Of course.”

  I put a hand on her waist and kissed her lightly. Then we both exchanged uneasy, uncertain looks that I hoped no cameras picked up on.

  After Simone and I parted ways, I joined Ranya, who gave me an odd look. Half scowl, half inquisitive.

  I cocked my head. “What?”

  “Nothing.” Ranya smiled the way Simone always did when she wanted me to think everything was okay. “Why?”

  “You tell me.”

  She turned away. Bracelets and keys jingled as she spun her key ring on her finger. “We’ll talk in the car. Let’s get out of here.”

  We let Anthony know we’d meet him at the rally, and headed out to the parking lot. Ranya drove, since she was a terrible backseat driver whenever I did, and I sipped my coffee in the passenger seat.

  She’d barely pulled out onto the highway when I said, “So what was that look you gave me at the hotel?”

  “What look? I’m always giving you looks.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  Ranya tapped her thumbs on the steering wheel. “Are you sure Simone is okay with what’s going on with you and Anthony?”

  “I’m not even sure,” I said. “She says she is, insists she is, but…” Sighing, I rested my elbow below the window and rubbed my forehead with the heel of my hand. “Let’s just say I’m getting a lot of mixed signals.”

  “Well, she doesn’t seem okay with it.”

  “I can’t imagine she is. I can’t imagine she’s okay with any of it. I also know her, and if she thinks I’m adjusting my life—especially if I stop seeing Anthony—for her benefit after she’s already insisted I have her blessing, it’ll put her over the edge. One thing she does not like is people handling her with kid gloves.”

  “So it’s a catch-22,” Ranya said. “Keep doing what you’re doing, it’ll drive her crazy. Change to what you think she really wants, it’ll drive her even crazier.”

  “Basically.”

  She was silent for a long moment, her brow furrowed with something unspoken. I was just about to ask what was on her mind when she said, “Mind if I ask something personal?”

  “Go ahead.”

  “Hypothetically, if you were straight”—she glanced at me—“do you think you and Simone would have lasted?”

  The question hit me in the gut. “What…what do you mean?”

  “I mean, even before you were planning on getting a divorce, you seemed stressed over your marriage.”

  I shrugged, as much to appear flippant as to loosen some of the tension knotting my shoulders. “Being closeted will do that to you.”

  “No, that’s not what I mean. As long as I’ve known you, you’ve always bent over backward to make Simone happy, and you’ve always second-guessed your every move because you know her well enough to know she doesn’t process things normally. I guess I always wondered if you’d eventually get tired of that.”

  “It’s tiring, yes,” I said. “I won’t deny that. But I made a vow to her, and I meant it. I thought I did, anyway, but I knew from the get-go that she handles things differently. I went into this knowing that, and I’d no sooner leave her over a mental illness than I would leave if she had cancer or something.” I pushed out a breath. “God, I feel like enough of a jackass for leaving her in the first place.”

  “I don’t think she blames you,” Ranya said softly. “I certainly don’t. If you’re gay, well, you’re gay.”

  I stared out the windshield but said nothing.

  “Honestly,” Ranya said, “I can’t even imagine how you made it this long.”

  “Pretending to be straight, you mean?”

  “Yeah. Didn’t you know when you married her?”

  “I knew I was more attracted to men than women, but I loved her, and I thought…” I trailed off and finally shook my head. “I don’t know. I thought I could do this. Fast-forward a few years and get past some denial and I realize I was only into women as much as I needed to be to keep up that image of being straight. And I couldn’t keep faking it anymore.”

  “I can’t even imagine.”

  “But damn it, I could have saved her a lot of heartache if I’d gotten it together sooner. Even a year or two ago.”

  “Would have saved yourself a lot too.”

  “Yeah, but at least I wouldn’t be inflicting it on her. She deserves better than that.”

  Ranya glanced at me. “So do you.”

  I sighed and looked out the window. “I think I’ll let Simone reserve judgment on that.”

  * * * *

  Another night, another hotel. I would have been happy with tour buses and truck stops, the way Roger had campaigned a few times in the past, but my uncle insisted on paying for my staff and me to stay in comfort wherever we went. Of course, every chance he had, he made it known to the media and the public that he wanted my campaign to put money into the local and state economies. Spin, spin, spin.

  And all the while, as the campaign went on and everything was twisted and spun to suit everyone’s agendas, Anthony and I managed to exercise some restraint. It didn’t stop us from exchanging suggestive looks or stealing a dangerous kiss in a parking garage or almost giving in to the temptation for a blowjob in the back of a limousine, but somehow we kept our clothes on until almost ten days after the wedding ring incident. An event ended early that night, and Anthony, claiming we needed to discuss potential questions for a town-meeting type Q&A the next day, slipped into my room.

  “Goddamn, I needed that,” I said, dropping onto my back beside him after we’d showered.

  “You and me both.”

  “I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again.” I ran my fingers through my wet hair. “This campaigning bullshit is exhausting, even when I’m not trying to find the nearest opportunity to let my campaign manager fuck me.”

  Anthony laughed. “Well, what did you expect? You’ve been around campaigns before.”

  “Yeah, I have.” I closed my eyes and blew out a breath. “Guess it’s a necessary evil to get into this line of work.”

  “It is.” He paused. “Can I ask you something?”

  I turned to him. “Go for it.”

  He looked in my eyes, narrowing his just slightly as if searching for something. “Why politics?”

  Still holding his gaze, I pushed myself up onto my elbow. “Why not?”

  “No reason,” he said with a shrug. “But you’re already rich. You’re not power hungry. You don’t get a charge out of the games and bullshit. Why are you here, Jesse?” He paused, pursing his lips. “I guess what I’m asking is, what do you want out of this?”

  I rolled the question around in my mind for a moment before I answered. “I’ve always had a need to fix things. For other people. And nothing makes me crazier than that helpless feeling when something is out of my hands and I just have to sit back and do, well, nothing. I mean, except when I rea
lize I’m the one causing everything going on in their lives.” I sighed. “Shit, look at me now. I’m making things worse for Simone. I can’t help my brother with his problems. I mean, even when things are beyond my power, I still feel like I need to help. Somehow. Like when my parents split, or my mom was sick.” I ran a hand through my hair again. “I guess, at some point, I thought I could fix bigger problems if I made it into some kind of office. Where I could actually do something.” I shook my head. “It sounds even more ridiculous when I say it out loud.”

  “Not really,” he said. “And I was just curious.”

  “Well, there it is. That’s why I wanted to go into politics. Half of it, anyway.”

  “And the other half?”

  “Equally ridiculous,” I said with a self-conscious laugh. “Look, I’ve been in the public eye my entire life. If you’re a caged monkey and the world is watching you, you might as well do some kind of trick, you know? So I guess I thought politics would give me a chance to show that yes, I can do tricks, but maybe there’s a bit more to me than that.” I made myself meet his eyes. “I want to do something besides exist for the cameras.”

  “So you want people to take you seriously, then.”

  “Pretty much. And the more I hung around Roger, the more that career path appealed to me. It just felt right, I guess. I’m in the public eye whether I want to be or not, so why not be useful for once?”

  “You’re obviously suited for this line of work.”

  I laughed. “You’ve only seen me campaigning. You’ve never seen me actually try to do the job.”

  “Fair enough.” He touched my face, brushing the pad of his thumb across my cheekbone. “But I know you. You’re not a power-hungry two-face looking to exploit people for your own gain.”