For the Record (Record #3)

by K. A. Linde

  He had to be back in D.C. for the week, and since she had no other plans at the moment, she agreed to go with him. When they were seated in first class, Liz pulled up her email and saw she had something from the website.

  Dear Miss Dougherty:

  Your recent article has been quoted in the Washington Post regarding the upcoming education policy bill that is in the House of Representatives at the moment. Our traffic on the article has quadrupled in a matter of hours. Would you be interested in writing a follow-up article? We could post it next week.

  Please respond to let us know if you are interested, as this is a timely piece. Also, we would like permission to publish your name for the article so that you receive the credit in the feature.

  Sincerely,

  Tom Vernon

  Editor

  Liz read and reread the short email until she thought she might burst. Her article had not only done well, but it had been quoted in the Washington Post. She went in search of the article and, after seeing her quote with a link to her article, she literally squealed.

  Brady’s eyes got big as he turned to look at her.

  “Sorry,” she said, lowering her voice. “Check this out.”

  She passed over the computer to him and he scanned the email. “You were quoted in the Post?” he asked.

  “Yeah. Look.” She showed him the article.

  “Congratulations! This is your first article too.”

  “I know. I’m kind of freaking out,” she said, bouncing up and down.

  “They want you to publish with your name,” he pointed out.

  “Yeah. I’ll deal with that, but, Brady . . . my paper is quoted in the Washington Post,” she repeated.

  “Baby, I’m happy for you, but you know you can’t post your name.”

  “I know,” she said softly.

  And she did know. The press was already having a field day with their relationship, not to mention how it would look to the campaign. The media would probably think that she was just trying to feed the public Brady’s agenda or something equally likely to make her look like a biased journalist. Plus, she liked the idea of having a little slice of something that she could control. Seeing her words in print again, even without her name attached to them, was exhilarating. It showed her that her work was still valued and not garnering attention just because of all the extra drama that seemed to be attached to her name lately.

  “They seem to really want the follow-up,” Brady said.

  “I know. I can’t wait to write it.”

  “I have no idea where you would get all this information about education policy,” he joked. “It’s not like you’re dating the Congressman who is on the education committee proposing the bill.”

  “And you think the only reason I have information is because of you?” she asked, arching her eyebrows. If he thought that, then he was definitely mistaken. She had been invested in education policy long before she had ever known him.

  “I don’t think it hurts.”

  “I believe that I was the one to stump you at the press conference the first time we met,” she reminded him. “I was the one who kept badgering you about education policy while we were dating. I don’t need you to get information on education policy.”

  “Clearly,” he said, gesturing to the computer. “You got into the Post without any help from me . . . just like you wanted.”

  Liz smiled. “I’m pretty much a badass. Got into the Post on my own, got my boyfriend to be on the education committee instead of the budget committee . . .”

  “I believe I’m not on the budget committee because I represent the Research Triangle. Though it was nice to tell you I was on the education committee when I walked into your panel at the political journalism colloquium.” He smirked down at her. “You should have seen your face.”

  Liz smacked him on the arm. “You did that on purpose!”

  “Of course I did. I wanted to see you.”

  “You wanted to throw me off balance.”

  “Did it work?” he asked, lowering his face close to her mouth.

  “It’s working right now. What were we talking about?” she breathed.

  Brady kissed her deeply. “I believe we were discussing what I was going to do to you once I got you back to my place,” he whispered just loud enough for her to hear.

  “Now I remember. Something about me laid out on your bed and your tongue all over my body.”

  “Is that a request, Ms. Dougherty?”

  “Oh, yes.”

  His eyes slid down the front of her shirt and then back up to her eyes. “I might make a few requests myself.”

  “I’m always open to suggestions.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  Just then the flight attendant started up the instructions and safety tips, and they began to taxi down the runway. Their banter tapered off and Liz was left aroused.

  By the time they landed, she had drafted a letter to the editor accepting his offer to write a follow-up, but requesting to remain anonymous. She tried to argue that anonymity was important for her personal privacy. She hoped that would suffice.

  The next few days were spent much the same as her spring break—more like a vacation than the end of her college career. She wasn’t sure what she was supposed to feel like, but primarily she felt as if she was just floating. She didn’t have anything really to do besides write the follow-up article for the online journal and write a few blog posts for Justin now that he had sent over the information for the blog. She wasn’t sure how long it would take to get used to working for herself. Even as editor at the university paper, she had always had demanding deadlines, people reporting to her, and her reporting to the university. Now . . . it was just her.

  The only downer came through rejection letters to graduate school that week. Professor Mires had said that she would hear by June 1 at the latest, and some had already trickled in. Not surprisingly, Columbia and Northwestern turned her down. She got into American University and was still waiting to hear from Missouri and Maryland. American was her backup school, but she was still holding out for Maryland, her number one choice.

  On Thursday night when Brady returned from work, Liz was lounging in his living room with her computer on her lap and Pride and Prejudice on in the background. He started loosening his tie as he walked over to her. “Are you feeling like Elizabeth Bennet today?”

  “Only if you are going to be as positively stubborn and arrogant as Mr. Darcy.”

  “Well, that sounds like me, but Darcy had his reasons for acting like that,” Brady said.

  “Are you defending him for snubbing her?”

  “I’m defending him for getting a bad rep for what simply boils down to miscommunication,” he said, picking up her laptop and moving it to the table.

  “Darcy does not have a bad rep. Everyone loves him.”

  “Darcy and I are sounding more and more alike.” Brady sat down next to her and scooted her into his lap. He started trailing kisses down her neck and she sighed.

  “How do you do that?”

  “What?” he murmured.

  “Make me forget everything we were arguing about.”

  “Were we arguing?”

  “Lovingly discussing the merits of Mr. Darcy,” she said. Her hands gripped the front of his suit.

  “I thought we were talking about the rest of your graduation present.”

  Liz pulled back to look at him. Her hand immediately went to the charm necklace she had been wearing nonstop. “The rest?”

  “You can’t think that a charm is all you’re getting. I told you there was more.”

  “You don’t have to get me anything, though, Brady.”

  “If you don’t want it, then we don’t have to go to New York City this weekend to visit Chris and his girlfriend,” he said with a sly
smile.

  When he put it that way, there was no arguing. Of course she wanted to visit Chris, and it was as much a present for her as it was for him to go visit his best friend. She hadn’t seen Chris since the gala she had attended with him the night that Brady had given her a key to his house.

  They left early the next morning for New York. She was jittery when they landed, excited to be back in the city for the first time since she had been fired from her job with the Times.

  Their luggage was carried out to a waiting town car that whisked them downtown. This was a far cry from the last time she had been in the city over Christmas break, but she wasn’t complaining. Brady lived a certain lifestyle. He preferred first class to coach, a town car to a taxi, and designer suits to jeans and a T-shirt. It wasn’t a life she was accustomed to, and it was strange to think that it was her life now.

  The driver dropped them off in front of an apartment building in Chelsea and promised that he would be on call when they needed him next. They walked inside and had the receptionist call to let them up. Chris was on the fourteenth floor at the end of a narrow hallway.

  Brady knocked on the door and Chris greeted them with a big smile.

  “Hey, man,” Brady said.

  “About time you got here.”

  The guys reached out and hugged each other as if they hadn’t seen each other in ages.

  “Liz,” Chris said, turning his attention to her. “I always knew you’d be back.”

  “That makes one of us,” she joked. They hugged and then he let them inside.

  The apartment was a decent-size two-bedroom. It had a really homey feel, with brown suede furniture, a wooden coffee table, and framed photographs everywhere. It fit Chris’s personality. Where Brady was all politician charisma, Chris was totally laid-back. And when they were together, Brady seemed to feed off of Chris’s eternal good mood. They had been friends their entire lives and loved each other liked brothers. She wished Chris were around more often.

  “Y’all have good timing,” Chris said. “I took a half day and just got back. Let’s get out of here. We have to meet Mollie for her lunch break.”

  Brady sent a message out to the town car and it met them at the entrance when they got downstairs. Chris gave the driver their destination and then they were swept through the city. Liz stared out the tinted window at the skyscrapers they passed. Brady and Chris seemed to be discussing the finer merits of the NBA draft, which she promptly tuned out.

  Soon enough the car stopped in front of a gray stone building. The building was decorated in rich reds and browns with low lighting and exquisite chandeliers. The bar took up a large portion of the room, but there were private dining spaces along the far wall and a second level to accommodate smaller private parties. The hostess took them to one of the upstairs tables, where a slender woman with straight shoulder-length brown hair sat by herself staring at the menu.

  “Mols,” Chris said, drawing her attention. She looked up from her menu with a soft smile.

  “There you are. Did you get caught in traffic?”

  “Some.” Chris bent down and kissed her cheek. “As promised, Brady Maxwell and his girlfriend, Liz.”

  “Nice to meet you. I’m Mollie. Chris didn’t tire you with his antics already, did he?”

  “I was bored to tears,” Brady joked. Chris sighed heavily as he plopped into the seat next to Mollie.

  Liz slid into her seat. “He was just fine. Don’t listen to Brady.”

  Chris slung an arm over the back of Mollie’s chair. “No, really, don’t listen to Mollie. She thinks I can talk your ear off.”

  “You can,” she said.

  “She just thinks I do it all the time.”

  “You do!”

  Liz giggled just as the server arrived to fill drink orders. She perused the menu and her eyes bulged. Lobster as an appetizer. This place was classier than the sundress she had on. Oh well, Brady hadn’t said anything, so she must be fine.

  The waiter brought a bottle of wine for the table and poured out the glasses for everyone. Mollie held her glass out in front of Chris. “Do not let me drink more than one of these. I have to go back to work.”

  Chris winked at her. “I’d never encourage inebriation at work.”

  “Looks like Liz is going to have to be my advocate. Chris likes to get me drunk. Watch my back.”

  “Sure thing. Where do you work?” Liz asked her.

  “At an advertising company. Right now I mostly focus on women’s fashion.”

  “Chris tells me you work with some pretty high-end clientele,” Brady chimed in.

  “I do actually. Some of the outfits are beautiful and some are hideous, though. As with all fashion, I suppose. Either way, I love it. Plus it’s how Chris and I met, actually. He came to my company’s Christmas party and we totally hit it off.”

  “That’s one way to tell the story,” Chris said with a laugh. “I was there with someone else, but I left with Mollie.”

  “Isn’t that obligatory at company Christmas parties?” Liz joked.

  “I thought so,” Chris said.

  Mollie rolled her eyes and swatted at him. She redirected her attention to Liz. “What do you do?”

  “I . . .” Liz paused. What exactly did she do? Before she would have said she was a reporter or a journalist. Now she didn’t really have an occupation, so she went with the closest thing. “I’m a freelance writer.”

  “Ah,” Mollie said, averting her eyes.

  “She’s very talented,” Brady said, “and has been writing very sought-after pieces online.”

  “Oh really?” she asked. “Where?”

  “The Washington Post recently quoted me regarding a piece I wrote on education policy,” Liz said.

  “Well, that’s brilliant,” Mollie said, seeming more enthusiastic at hearing the Post mentioned. “Doesn’t Brady work in education policy? Wasn’t that what you were telling me, Chris?”

  “Oh, hmm?” Chris asked, oblivious. “Yeah . . . on some committee in Congress.”

  “The education committee,” Brady offered.

  “That’s the one.”

  “You two complement each other,” Mollie said. “That’s good long-term.” She placed her hand on Chris’s arm.

  Liz leaned into Brady with a sigh. At least she wasn’t the only one who thought so.

  Shortly afterward the waiter came to take their orders. The conversation shifted back to the guys’ basketball addiction, since they had played in college. Mollie seemed to tune out as much as Liz did. Liz caught her eye and they both started laughing.

  “What’s so funny?” Brady asked, pinching her leg under the table.

  “You two and basketball.” Liz rolled her eyes. “You could talk all day about it.”

  “What would you prefer we talk about? Tennis?”

  “Do you play tennis?” Mollie asked, her eyes wide.

  “Yeah, I do,” Liz said.

  “That’s exciting. I picked it up this year and I love it. So much fun and a great workout. I’ve been trying to convince Chris to play doubles with me, but he refuses.”

  “It’s so boring,” Chris complained.

  “It is not!” Mollie and Liz said at the same time.

  “You’re probably just not good,” Liz told him.

  “Hey! I’m good!” Chris said. She had bruised his ego.

  “Then it’s set,” Mollie said. “We’ll play doubles tomorrow. I’m so excited.”

  “Brady and I will kick your ass. Guaranteed,” Chris boasted.

  Mollie put her head in her hand and sighed. “You don’t even want to be my pair?”

  “Guys versus girls, Mols. We’ll show you how it’s done.”

  “Oh, I’m sure. When was the last time you even picked up a racket?” she teased.

  “It’s like rid
ing a bike.”

  “This should be interesting,” Liz mused.

  “Don’t worry,” Brady said, nudging her. “We’ll go easy on you.”

  She narrowed her eyes. He knew that she played, but he had never seen her in action. He was in for a rude awakening. “Bring it, Maxwell.”

  All of those extra practice sessions with Easton were going to pay off. If she had done this before working out with him two or three times a week, she would have been winded after half a match. Now she could play for over an hour straight. These guys were going to need more than good luck on their side.

  Chris quickly found out that playing tennis was not like riding a bike.

  After having a few drinks last night, they had called it a night relatively early and gone back to Chris’s house. Liz and Brady spent the night wrapped up together on the guest bedroom’s queen-size bed. The next morning they had risen relatively early and taken the town car to the gym where Mollie worked out. They had indoor tennis courts, which really worked to Liz’s favor, since she was used to playing outside in the North Carolina heat.

  “How long have you been playing?” Mollie asked as she watched Liz warming up.

  “Since I was seven,” Liz told her.

  “This is going to be great.” A slow, ruthless smile spread across her face. “Let’s crush them.”

  The guys let the girls have the first serve. Liz happily obliged them with an impressive serve that took Chris completely off guard. Her next serve Brady took and volleyed back to Mollie. Liz could tell that Brady had more experience than Chris, so he was her real opponent. Plus, he looked really hot in gym shorts, a Dri-Fit T-shirt, and tennis shoes.

  Mollie’s return serve showed Liz that she did have training, but nothing compared to Liz. Chris did start to get the hang of it again about halfway through the game, but by then the girls were already up by two sets. They volleyed back and forth for the next set, which went to the guys after Brady delivered a powerful stroke that neither of them could return.