Still, that was no excuse and she wouldn’t make any.
“Come in,” he said.
She opened the door to the office of the CEO of Robinson & Associates, Justin Robinson, the husband of her best friend, Sherise, who had practically saved her life when he hired her eight months ago.
Erica was not in a good place in her life a year ago. She’d allowed herself to be suckered into working for Jonah Nolan’s vice presidential campaign, believing that somehow she could have an actual relationship with the man she’d learned was her father at the age of twenty-five. He’d had a brief affair with her mother and the two parted ways with Erica’s mother, who died when Erica was nineteen, choosing to keep her father’s identity a secret.
He wanted to keep her a secret for the sake of his career. At the time, he was one of the highest-ranking people with the Defense Department and on the short list for the White House. Being selected as the Republican candidate for vice president in the last election was all part of the plan.
Erica wasn’t part of the plan. She was often reminded of how lucky she was. Jonah was an awful person who wielded immense power and used it to hurt anyone who crossed him. He used people, innocent people, and thought nothing of it. Jonah’s complete failure as a human being was made undeniably clear to her in the worst way. She’d found out that he was also the father of Alex Gonzales, a man whose mother was a maid of Jonah’s sister.
The worst part of it was that Erica and Alex had started falling for each other before finding out the truth. They’d even kissed. When the truth came out, there were no words to describe how devastated they both were. Their lives were ruined—Alex’s more than Erica’s because while she was still kept a secret, Alex’s relationship, or the lack of one, with Jonah was declared to the world.
Erica quit her job on Jonah’s campaign. Things were rough, especially with her younger brother, Nate, deciding to get a place of his own. Struggling with money had always been a part of Erica’s life, but she was down to her last penny when, eight months ago, Justin came to her and offered her the job of his assistant at the new lobbying firm he was starting up. She knew this was more of a favor than a genuine request, but she made a vow to make it the best choice Justin could make for his company.
“I’m so so sorry,” she said as she rushed over to his desk.
Justin looked up from his computer and reached out to get the report she’d completed. “You’re lucky that the client is late for the meeting. Otherwise, I’d be in deep shit.”
“I know,” Erica said. “I just . . . I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”
He placed the report on the desk and looked at her with an analyzing expression. “Are you okay, Erica?”
“Um . . . well, yes.” Erica wondered what she looked like. “Is something wrong with me?”
The twenty-eight-year old was still the same vivacious, curvy girl she’d been since puberty. Her fair skin and light eyes highlighted a pretty, full face. She had a girl-next-door look about her, but was now showing a little more sophistication in the way she carried herself.
“You look stressed,” he said. “I need to know if this is too much for—”
“No,” she insisted quickly. “This job is not too much for me. You know I’ve been doing admin jobs for the longest, Justin.”
“This job is more than that,” he said. “I know I require a lot of you, and if you think it’s outside of your area . . .”
“I may not have gone to college . . .” Erica stopped herself, noticing that her tone sounded a bit defensive. Always being around people with college degrees, sometimes more than one, and not having any can make a girl that way. “I can handle it. Sorry I was late.”
“Seems like everyone is late today.” He glanced at his watch. “This meeting was supposed to start a half hour ago. Hopefully, it’ll be quick.”
“Would you like me to call them?”
“I think . . .” Just then the Skype ring came up on Justin’s computer and he sighed. “Finally. It’s them. It’s fine, Erica. That’ll be all.”
“Let me know if you need anything,” she said before leaving and closing the door behind her.
She needed this job. She had to make sure not to slip up. Money was extremely tight. She was paying for everything herself. Before, it was her, her brother Nate, and her fiancé Terrell sharing the rent of a two-bedroom apartment. Then it was down to just her and Nate. Then it was just her.
It didn’t seem fair, Erica thought. While her friends Sherise and Billie were able to go off to college on scholarship, Erica couldn’t afford it. Nate was only twelve when their mother died and Erica had to take care of him. Neither had she found a lobbyist or lawyer to marry. The girls had loaned her money in the past, but Erica hated that. She hated being reminded that she was always the broke one.
This job paid decent enough and now that Justin was doing much better, she was promised a raise. She needed it desperately, so now was not the time to start messing up.
As she turned to enter her office just a few steps away from Justin’s she heard the office doorbell. Their office, located on K Street in downtown Washington, D.C., shared a receptionist with the consulting agency next door. When she was out, the front door was locked and visitors had to ring a doorbell for Erica to let them in.
She rushed to the front of the office, toward the glass doors. When she reached them, she was pleased with what she saw. A very good-looking brother, sort of a walnut brown color, a close fade, and a finely shaven goatee, in a dark blue suit that was tailored perfectly to show that he had a large, muscled body underneath, but not too tight to make it seem like that’s what he wanted you to see. He was smiling at her and he had a dimple on his left cheek.
Erica had a thing for men with dimples, but she pulled herself together and approached the door as professionally as she could.
“Can I help you?” she asked as she opened the door.
“Yes.” His voice was deep and confident. “I’m Corey James. I have an appointment with Justin Robinson.”
Erica had a hard time looking away from those deep eyes of his, but after a few seconds, she glanced down at her watch. “Your interview isn’t until eleven. It’s . . .”
“Ten thirty,” he said. “I know. I didn’t expect it to be so easy to get here from the Hill.”
The Hill was the word used to describe Capitol Hill with the U.S. Capitol as its centerpiece. It was where Congressional staff, which Erica assumed Corey was, worked.
“He’s actually running kind of behind,” Erica said. “It’s not his fault. A client took too . . .”
Erica realized his brows centered in a frown. He was looking at her weird and she suddenly realized why. She hadn’t let him in!
“Oh!” She jumped aside, holding the door open for him to enter. “Sorry about that.”
He laughed as he entered. “I was starting to worry I’d have to conduct the interview in the hallway.”
“Please sit down anywhere,” she directed.
The front of the office was sharply designed with a minimalist look of green and blue. The centerpiece was the large-screen television against the wall behind the receptionist desk. It was always on C-SPAN, the public affairs channel that covered Congress and the White House.
“So you’re here for the associate position?” she asked as he sat down.
“Yes, I am.” He had a generous smile that didn’t hold back. “Are you an associate? I can tell you’re not the woman I spoke to on the phone because she had a Midwestern accent.”
“Don’t tell her that,” Erica warned as she sat down in the chair next to him. “She’s from Minneapolis and hates it when people ask her about her accent. She thinks it makes her sound like a hick.”
“I know the feeling,” he said. “Being from Waukegan, Illinois, I got a lot of weird looks when I first moved here.”
“Isn’t that near Chicago?” Erica asked.
“A little less than an hour away,” he answered. “Where are
you from?”
“Right here in D.C.,” she said. “Southeast, as a matter of fact.”
She eyed him closely to gauge his reaction. D.C. snobs were predictable. If you came from Southeast D.C. you were considered ghetto no matter who you actually were. The elitist culture in the district would shun you right away. Erica wondered if Corey was a part of that culture.
But he didn’t seem to react at all. Maybe he was a good actor. After all, he worked on Capitol Hill.
“Nice,” he said. “I’m gonna need your help.”
“With what?”
“Well.” He placed his briefcase in the chair next to him. “First, I’m gonna need your name.”
She laughed girlishly and was immediately embarrassed by it. “I’m sorry. My name is Erica. Erica Kent.”
He held out his hand to her. She accepted and shook it firmly. His grip was strong, but not strangling. She liked it.
“Second,” he said. “I’m gonna need you to show me around Southeast.”
Was he asking her out? Erica didn’t know how to react to this. After having been with the same man for five years, her one attempt at getting back in the saddle was with someone who turned out to be her half brother. Other than that, her dating experiences were rare and awful.
“Show you around?” she asked, trying to act unfazed. “How can you work on Capitol Hill and not know Southeast? You’re in Southeast.”
He shook his head. “I’m in Capitol Hill Southeast. You know that. I’m used to the hot spots to go eat and the food markets, but I don’t know the real Southeast. The neighborhood. In the two years I’ve lived here, I’ve never been able to really explore the real D.C.”
Erica liked what she was hearing, a man who saw past all the pretty regentrification that Capitol Hill always raved about. He wanted to learn about the D.C. that was there before people decided to bring in all the cafés and candle shops.
“You know what I’m talking about,” he said. “The family joints, the dives and mom-and-pop places that the transients don’t know about.”
“I’d actually . . . I guess I could.” So was this a date? She didn’t even know this guy.
“I don’t want to put you on the spot,” he said, reaching into his pocket. “Here is my card. Don’t worry about it now, but think about it later.”
She hesitated a second before taking the card. “I’ll think about it, Corey. I’ll let Justin know you’re here. Like I said, he’s running a little behind.”
“I’m good,” he said, holding up his smart phone.
She went to the receptionist desk and grabbed the remote to the TV behind the desk.
“If you want, you can watch something other than C-SPAN.” She handed him the remote.
“Thanks.” He accepted the remote, but frowned as he looked at the television. “What is this guy doing on? I thought he disappeared.”
Erica turned to the screen and felt dread at the sight of Jonah. It was stock footage of him and his now ex-wife, Juliet, standing in front of their massive Virginia house waving to the media. It was taken after Jonah was named as the vice presidential candidate more than a year ago. The piece was just reflecting on all of the high and low points of the presidential campaign that had recently ended. Jonah’s bit was obviously a low point.
Disappeared was a good word to describe Jonah these days. After the news of his affair with his sister’s maid and his love child he’d kept a secret all these years hit, the once hero war veteran and future of politics was everything that was wrong with the world. The campaign dropped him from the ticket, choosing a female senator to replace him.
Erica had cut all ties with Jonah after that, even though he tried several times to contact her. She heard about him resigning from the Pentagon, his wife filing for divorce, and his general withdrawal from the powerful society scene. It was unavoidable, but she still tried to stay as far away from it as she could. It was too upsetting.
Unable to even stand the sight of Jonah, Erica snatched the remote away from Corey and quickly turned to a channel focused on the day’s financial markets.
“Better?” she asked, smiling, handing it back to him.
“Much,” he agreed with a nod.
A blank screen would be better than Jonah, Erica thought as she walked back toward Justin’s office.
2
Sherise was usually good at hiding her emotions when she wanted to, but she wasn’t really trying right now. She was pissed off and everyone in Jerry’s private office at campaign headquarters knew this.
Jerry stopped talking and his eyes settled on her. Yes, she knew that the fifty-eight-year-old man before her, distinguished and handsome with gray temples highlighting his blond hair, was going to be the next president of the United States, but for right now, he was the man who had wasted her morning and he wasn’t above knowing about it.
“What is it, Sherise?” he finally asked.
Everyone in the room, Jerry’s top five advisors, including his campaign manager, LaKeisha, turned to her.
Sherise gently placed her hands on her knee atop her crossed legs. “I’m just . . . I thought we were here for something extremely important, but you just want us to assist in . . . party planning?”
“I know it sounds tedious.” Jerry offered his hands out in the way he always did when he knew he was asking a lot of someone.
“Party planning is tedious,” Sherise said.
“He isn’t asking us to be event planners,” LaKeisha, who was sitting in the chair next to her, explained. “He’s asking us to invite certain people.”
“These are our biggest and most important supporters and donors,” Jerry said. “I don’t want them to get a cold invite, no matter how intricate the design might be. You’re my top five people, and a call from one of you will assure them that we know how exceptionally essential they were to our victory.”
Sherise nodded, knowing that it made sense, but said nothing.
“This list of donors is massive.” Jerry pointed to Alan Sharp, his funding manager, who held up a large stack of paper about four inches thick.
“We’re working off paper?” Sherise asked.
“Yes,” Alan responded curtly.
Alan looked younger than a man in his late thirties, with a textbook Washington D.C. staff look. Ivy League educated, glasses wearing, khaki dressed, and usually clinging to three communication devices. But today he had paper.
“We need to work from the same list to save time,” Alan continued. “If you each had your own list, it would take forever to cut and paste. Besides, we need to agree on the list and which one of us will call whom.”
“There are at least twenty people who we know already,” LaKeisha said. “I can call them.”
“So how many are we talking?” Sherise asked.
“That’s the question,” Jerry said. “You all need to figure out who we won’t be inviting and how to handle that. It will certainly get back to them that there was another party.”
By another party, Jerry was referring to the formal celebration party that happened last week. It was held at the Hotel Monaco and all the donors and supporters were there. This party would be held at Jerry’s home, the governor’s mansion, in Annapolis, Maryland.
“That’s going to be a nightmare.” LaKeisha rolled her eyes. “Everyone thinks they’re the most important.”
“That’s why I’ve called you in,” Jerry said. “This is going to be a lot more complicated than it seems. And it has to stay under a hundred.”
“We’re inviting a hundred people?” For some reason, Sherise assumed this would be no more than fifty. “For a party two nights away?”
“Yes,” Jerry affirmed. “Which is why you need to get started right—”
He stopped speaking, as there was a knock on the door.
“Who is it?” LaKeisha asked, annoyed.
The door opened just slightly and Diana Boone, Jerry’s lifelong assistant, stuck her head through the door. She looked like a mild libraria
n in her sixties, but was a sharp woman with a hidden aggressiveness that made it clear why Jerry used her as his barrier to the world.
“I know you said no disturbances,” she started, “but Mr. Blair is here.”
Sherise turned to Jerry, who quickly glanced down at his watch. He frowned and said, “He’s early.”
“Just a second, Diana.” LaKeisha stood up.
“Who is it?” Sherise asked. That name sounded familiar, but she couldn’t quite place it.
“Look.” Jerry stood up from his chair and came around his desk. “We’re done with this for now. If you guys can focus on this list for now. I think between the group of you, you can come to a consensus as to the most important people.”
Sherise could tell that Jerry’s demeanor and attitude were sharply changed. Even his voice suddenly sounded different. He wanted them out of his office now.
“LaKeisha,” he said, “you’ll let me know how things are coming along after my meeting is over?”
LaKeisha looked a little surprised. “Am I not staying for the meeting?”
Jerry cleared his throat and shook his head. “No, not this time.”
As they all made their way out of the office, Sherise suddenly caught the name. She wasn’t sure why it hadn’t rung a bell earlier, because she knew Maurice Blair well. Everyone in politics in D.C. did. Currently the president of the small, not highly regarded Democrat Governors Association, or DGA, he’d been a part of many successful Democratic campaigns and projects.
Except for Northman’s. During the campaign, Sherise had run into Maurice at several events, but he wasn’t involved in the campaign. There was too much going on at DGA. He had his hands full with Democratic governors who were in tight races during that campaign season.
So what was he doing here now?
“You’re early,” LaKeisha admonished as he approached.
Maurice Blair was a slender, tall man, sort of a mushroom brown, in his middle forties. He was handsome in a way, but not if you looked too long. He had a slickness to him that men liked, but women stayed as far away from as possible. Used to be known as a power broker in D.C., but that ended about ten years ago after a couple of failed campaigns. He wasn’t really on the top of many lists in D.C.’s social scene.
Power, Seduction & Scandal Page 2