Sherise checked her phone for the time. She had been in the mansion’s library for five minutes alone, waiting. She was starting to doubt that Stephen could come through for her until she heard footsteps outside the door.
When Stephen opened the door, he stepped aside to let his father walk in first. Upon seeing Sherise, Jerry paused for a second in surprise, but continued inside.
“What are you doing in here?” he asked, before looking back at his son. “I thought you wanted to talk to me about something important.”
“I just wanted to get you away from those people,” Stephen said.
Jerry wasn’t pleased. “Son, those are very important people. Tonight is not the night for your games.”
“It’s not a game,” Sherise said. “I asked Stephen to get you away. I need to talk to you, Jerry.”
Jerry frowned. “You need to use trickery? Why couldn’t you just come up to me and talk to me?”
Sherise turned to Stephen. “Thanks, Stephen. That’ll be all.”
He gave an accomplished smile before leaving and closing the door behind him.
Sherise walked up to Jerry, facing his disapproval with concern. He seemed to be veiling something. He didn’t want to be alone with her.
“What’s going on here?” he asked.
“Jerry, I’m sorry about this, but please don’t act like you’re being swindled by a stranger. I need to talk to you.”
“You’ve said that,” Jerry said. “Now please hurry so I can get back to our guests.”
“What are you doing with Maurice Blair?” she asked.
She watched his reaction. His entire body tightened and he looked away.
“Sherise, this is something we can discuss at the office.”
“I don’t think it is,” she countered. “I think something’s going on. His access to you is . . . unheard of. I know you know this game. I know you know who should and shouldn’t have access to you now that you’re president-elect. He can’t—”
“Don’t tell me what to do,” he snapped.
He could see from Sherise’s expression that she was offended and he immediately softened. With an expression of regret, he reached out and touched her shoulder.
“There’s a process involved,” Sherise said, speaking slowly. “An outsider can’t just come in and . . .”
“He’s not . . .” Jerry sighed and lowered his head for a moment. When he looked back up at Sherise, he smiled. “Sherise, I value you more than you can know. You’ve been great at your job even with all of your challenges.”
“Challenges?” she asked, confused. Was he talking about the baby? Justin’s harassment suit?
“What I mean,” he continued, “is that I . . . I might as well tell you now. Marcus isn’t an outsider anymore. He’s joining my administration.”
Sherise gasped. She had always suspected Marcus was trying to get jobs for others, not one for himself. She should have known better.
“Jerry, if you think I’m letting that slime ball work for me on . . .”
“He’s not going to be working for you.” Jerry’s expression changed, almost to a cringe. “You’re going to be working for him.”
“What?” She must have heard him wrong.
Jerry removed his hand from her shoulder. He looked terribly ashamed and could barely make eye contact.
“Maurice Blair is going to be my press secretary, Sherise. I’m sorry.”
Sherise was too shocked and stunned to say anything as Jerry turned and walked out of the library. Even though he was gone, she was making a huffing sound, trying to speak, trying to comprehend what she’d just heard. This was impossible. It couldn’t be. That job was hers. How could he . . . how could this be happening?
4
City Tap House on I Street in Northwest D.C. was an unassuming, but nice restaurant. It was warm and casual with an upscale refurbished factory design. It served basic food such as pizza, salads, steaks, and lobster rolls, but was mostly known for its selection of sixty different beers, two of which Erica and Corey were sampling on their first date. A date that, in Erica’s opinion, was going great just two hours in.
Corey had picked her up at her apartment earlier that evening. From the way he almost seemed to be speechless for several seconds after laying eyes on her, she knew she’d chosen well with a sexy red wrap dress and her hair up in a waterfall French braid. Asking advice from Billie, Erica picked the right tone between looking nice and keeping it causal to match the restaurant, a place that Corey selected based on recommendations from friends.
As he drove to the restaurant, Erica wondered if this would be awkward, as many first dates can be, but she had no reason to. Just like before, conversation between the two of them flowed naturally. He was cracking jokes and being just flirtatious enough to make her forget this was a first date.
Sitting at a table in the lounge, they shared an appetizer of blue crab mac and cheese with their beers, discussing the traditional things one talks about on their first date. He grew up near Chicago, raised by a single mother who was a high-ranking administrator with the city. He had a younger brother who was a freshman at Northwestern University. Corey’s parents divorced when he was only ten and his father, a city worker, fell off the face of the map. Erica sympathized with his mostly fatherless childhood, but respected that he didn’t complain. Corey didn’t seem like one to feel sorry for himself.
Any short moments of silence were tempered by the basketball game on the large TVs that sat at the bar in the center of the room. Either Corey or Erica would briefly comment on the game before returning the conversation to each other.
Erica was impressed with his experimental nature. When she suggested they order the Honey Goat Cheese pizza with sliced red onion, pistachio, and rosemary, he didn’t even blink. “Let’s go for it,” he said with an eager smile.
He was a good listener, asking her about herself and Nate. Erica was naturally guarded and regretted that she couldn’t be as open as he was, but she told him all she could—at least for the time being.
As she ate her cherry crisp dessert with vanilla ice cream, she listened attentively to him talking about his life in D.C. after graduating from the School of Public Affairs at American University.
“So after a year as a legislative assistant on the House Financial Services Committee, I got a job as a senior legislative assistant to Senator Harding. I’ve been there for three years, but as you might know, he lost his reelection campaign earlier this month.”
“You don’t want to move on to another senator?” Erica asked. “I’m not an expert on this stuff. I’ve only been doing it for a few months, but it seems like congressional staff move around a lot.”
He nodded. “Yeah, but I’m not interested in that. If Harding was planning on staying in politics, I would stay with him. I respect that man a lot. But he’s retiring. I’m ready to move on. That’s why I’m interviewing in the private sector.”
“Why Justin’s firm?” she asked, leaning back in her chair.
His brows centered, suspiciously. “Am I being interviewed again?”
She shrugged. “I got Justin’s back. He’s not just my boss. He’s like . . . family to me. I want to make sure he’s bringing on good people.”
Corey pointed at her with a nod. “You know, he said the same thing about you. That’s why he was reluctant at first to give me your number. He’s protective of you.”
She smiled. “Yes, he is. His wife is my . . . she’s basically my sister, so he’s kind of my brother-in-law. I love his kids like they were my own.”
“That’s why you’re going over there for Thanksgiving?” he asked.
She nodded. “Me and my brother. What all did Justin tell you about me?”
He shook his head with a coy smile that made Erica’s stomach flutter a bit. He knew he was good-looking. This boy was going to be a handful.
“Nah,” he said. “I’m not giving it all away. I’m basing my entire strategy on that intel.”
She grabbed her fork and pointed it at him playfully. “I want that intel or you can stick this fork in our date. It’s done.”
“Threats?” he asked. “You’re dangerous. I kind of like that.”
“Don’t get freaky on me,” she warned. “Spill it.”
“He said you were real.”
“Real?”
He nodded. “He said Erica is a real chick, so no games.”
“But you just said you had a strategy.”
“Strategy isn’t a game.” He jauntily cocked his head to one side. “Strategy is serious business. Besides, I’m a man. I don’t play games. I leave games to the boys.”
“That’s good to hear,” she affirmed. “Because I don’t play games either.”
“He also said that you are very guarded.”
Erica frowned. “Really? What did he mean by . . . Well, I guess he’s right.”
“He said I’d have to be patient because . . .” Corey paused as if trying to find the right words to say. “Because you don’t easily let people in.”
Erica’s expression grew still and serious. “He’s right. I’ve been through a lot, Corey. I’m pretty guarded. If that’s not something you can handle, we might have a problem.”
“Man, you are guarded,” he said. “Already trying to push me off and it’s only our first date. What can I look forward to on the second?”
Her eyes were sharp and assessing as she grumbled at his presumptuousness.
“Who says there’s gonna be a second date?” she asked.
“Please.” He pressed his lips together and shrugged, playfully pointing at her and then back at himself. “This is happening, Ms. Kent.”
“This?” She mocked him, pointing to herself and then to him. “What is this?”
“So you plan on making this hard on me, huh?” he asked.
She nodded. “Any woman worth having would have to, now wouldn’t she?”
“Yes,” he agreed. “Yes, she would. And I’m okay with that. I’m okay with earning my way to your trust. As long as I get a fair shot. Are you fair, Erica?”
“I’m fair,” she said, hoping that was true. She wanted to give him a chance. “You’ll get a fair shot and you’re lucky for it.”
“Damn,” he said, leaning back. “I like a lady who knows what she’s worth. Even though her taste in football teams is awful.”
She rolled her eyes. “Don’t start on that. Your Bears got lucky. You got lucky.”
“No,” he corrected her, sitting up straight. “You’re not getting away with that. Let’s go double or nothing.”
“Double or nothing? The game is over. You won. I’m paying.”
“Girl, there is no way I’m letting you pay for dinner. You didn’t think I was serious, did you? If it ever got back to my mama that I made a girl pay for dinner . . .”
“I lost a bet fair and square,” she said, pointing at him. “You didn’t make me do anything. And if you try and pay this dinner bill, you’re gonna have me to answer to.”
His eyebrows furrowed and he frowned as if thinking something over.
“What?” she asked.
“I’m trying to decide who I’m more afraid of,” he said. “You or my mama.”
“Your mama ain’t here,” she reminded him swiftly.
He sighed as if defeated and turned away. He looked up at the television playing the basketball game and his expression lit up.
“This dinner bill on whether or not Michaels makes both free throws.”
She glared at him. “This dinner bill bet is over.”
“Fine.” He bit his lower lip in frustration. “Then a kiss.”
“A what?”
“You heard me,” he insisted. “If Michaels makes both free throws, you gotta kiss me.”
Despite her look of extreme skepticism, Erica was suddenly very excited. She wasn’t going to actually let him kiss her on the first date; even before the first date was over. Was she?
“And if he doesn’t? Because he sucks at free throws.”
“What do you want?” Corey asked.
“No more bets,” she said. “This is getting a little too frisky for me.”
“Deal.” He held out his hand for a shake. “Come on, girl. He’s about to shoot.”
She sighed and quickly stuck her hand out to shake his. Just as she did, she turned to the screen and Michaels made his first shot.
She let out a quick gasp as she felt her entire chest tighten and her teeth clench. She was supposed to want him to miss the second shot, wasn’t she?
“Here it comes,” Corey warned.
When the second shot landed, several people in the bar and the lounge area surrounding it let out a victorious yell, including Corey. When he looked at her, he had a mischievous, very satisfied smile on his face that was borderline arrogant. It made her angry.
“You just think you’re something, don’t you?” she asked.
He laughed. “What would you think if you just won two bets in a row?”
“I’m not going to kiss you,” she said.
He looked surprised. “What do you mean? We made a bet.”
“I was coerced.” She sat back in her seat and crossed her arms over her chest. “My friend Billie calls it under duress. That’s a legal term.”
“I know what under duress means,” he said, with an annoyed tone.
“Then you know that’s what happened,” she said. “Agreements made under duress are not enforceable.”
“So you’re punking out?” he asked.
She grumbled. “I don’t punk out.”
He shrugged. “Yet I haven’t gotten my kiss. A kiss that I won fair and square.”
“That’s your problem,” she said. “You can’t win kisses.”
He pointed to the TV screen. “I just did. Sounds like someone punked out.”
“Don’t say that again,” she warned.
He smiled a daring smile as he leaned over the table. “Are you a woman of your word or what?”
She knew the game he was playing, but he was going to get away with it. She wasn’t going to punk out.
“One kiss,” she said, putting her finger up to make a point. “And if you even dare open your mouth, I will make you regret it.”
He smiled triumphantly like he’d just won the basketball game all by himself.
“And knock that smile off your face,” she ordered.
He tried to get serious quickly, but it wasn’t working. His smile turned to laughter and soon Erica couldn’t hold back her laughter either. This was silly, but deep inside she was a little scared. She was about to kiss him. She wanted to kiss him, but she wasn’t sure that she should.
She leaned into the center of the table and he met her halfway. She looked into his eyes and couldn’t help but smile. He wasn’t teasing anymore. He was softer now, waiting, and wanting. It made her certain that she wanted to kiss him.
When her lips touched his, she felt an immediate spark of excitement and anticipation. She knew immediately that she wanted more . . . much more.
Then, suddenly, Erica was jolted by the sound of several people gasping and one person almost yelling out in surprise. Both she and Corey looked around and noticed that everyone was watching the large TV. When Erica looked up she was shocked to see that the game wasn’t on anymore, but a breaking news report was there instead.
“As we just stated,” the young, pretty blond reporter said as she looked into the camera with a grim stare, “it has been confirmed by the Virginia State Police Department that former secretary of defense and recent Republican vice presidential candidate Jonah Nolan is dead from what appears to be a suicide.”
The shock hit Erica like a brick to her face. She couldn’t breathe. As she felt the room begin to spin around her, she gripped the edges of the table. She could hear Corey say her name once, and then again, but she could only feel the room spinning around her and his voice seemed to get farther and farther away. What had she just heard? Jonah . . . was dead?
Jonah . . . killed himself? That was impossible.
Erica saw Corey face’s come to within a few inches of hers as he gripped her arms with his hands. She was trying to focus on him and could see that he had a look of extreme concern on his face.
“Breathe,” he ordered her. “Breathe!”
“Cady.” Sherise called out her three-year-old daughter’s name with a stern tone. “You know the rules. If you want to stay in the kitchen, you have to sit at the table. You can’t run around and get into everyone’s way.”
Little Cady Robinson stood in the middle of the kitchen of the family’s Georgetown home in her pink sweatpants and Hello Kitty shirt, her natural curls falling in tendrils framing her adorable brown face. Looking at her mother, Billie, and Erica in the process of preparing Thanksgiving dinner, she folded her arms across her chest with an adorable pout on her face.
“She’s got your pout down pat, Sherise,” Billie said.
“I’m serious, young lady.” Sherise stared her down.
Her little princess had inherited a lot more than just her pout from her mother. She was stubborn as hell and Sherise knew she had to stay firm.
“I want Daddy,” Cady finally squeaked out.
“Daddy is in the den watching football with Michael and Nate,” Sherise explained. “Why don’t you go run around him in circles for a while?”
“I will, so now,” she said as if her words were intended to upset Sherise. With a huff, she turned and stormed out of the kitchen, headed for the den.
“She can drive him crazy for a while.” Sherise returned to her mashed potatoes. “Can someone hand me that roasted garlic?”
Billie looked at Erica, who was closest to the plate of roasted garlic bulbs, but she didn’t react. She continued to wrap the bacon around the asparagus as if in her own world.
With a sigh, Billie walked over to her and grabbed the plate of garlic, handing it to Sherise. She and Sherise looked at each other before both turned to Erica.
“Now that Cady’s gone,” Billie said, “Erica, we want to talk to you.”
Erica, in her world, kept wrapping the bacon until Billie grabbed her by the arm.
Power, Seduction & Scandal Page 6